The Unholy Trinity
by selmak
Summary: Non DH compliant. OTP era with a focus on Filius Flitwick, Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape during the Era of that Evil Cat Woman Dolores Umbridge. MF, FF, MM implied. And absolutely 100,000,000,000 not DH compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any part of HP except for my books, my Severus Snape Lego figures and a few autographs. JKR owns them all and worthy is she.

* * *

The promised report came as pledged, ten days to the very minute of Dolores Umbridge's inspection of his class. With a soft pop, a tray appeared on his desk, and upon the bright, silver tray rested the threatened piece of parchment. 

_**Pink**_ parchment.

He picked up the parchment, realized it was sealed, and he flipped it over. The wax seal… by Merlin's Beard, His Wand and His Bloody Cloak, was a kitten with big, blue eyes that blinked and… by Merlin's Polka Dotted Knickers, Twisted and Bunched in a Gordian Knot, it meowed softly even as he inspected it in complete disbelief.

That arseface Umbridge's obsession with kitty cats made his skin crawl.

Maybe, he thought dryly, that was one of the many reasons why Minerva McGonagall thoroughly disliked the woman.

It was hard for others such as himself to take Minerva's animagus form very seriously when one realized how the High Inquisitor would love nothing more than to put Minerva the feline into an outfit with a matching bow. And Minerva… prim, proper Minerva, with her need for complete and utter control of any situation, from her hair being just so, down to her tartans and her rules… combined with her bloody Gryffindor pride… that would be horrifying.

Imagining a very irate Minerva in cat form being stuffed into a tartan outfit complete with matching bow while Dolores' little girl voice droned on and on about what a cute kitty cat Minerva was, made him smile. Fortunately, he pounced on that moment of weakness as his lips barely quirked upwards before his obligatory scowl returned in full force. Repulsed by the very thought of his students seeing him… _**smile**_, he put the bloody pink parchment back on the tray, but it was then that he noticed that every sound in the room had ceased, and every student's eye had turned his way.

Ah… yes… the little snotty brats were curious if Umbridge had finally gotten rid of their loathsome Potions Master.

He should be so bloody lucky.

In quick order, without so much as raising his voice, as he prided himself on his hard earned emotional restraint and he refused to lose his self-control twice in as many minutes, the Slytherin inflicted a week's detention with Filch to the entire class, assigned them a foot and half essay on why one should concentrate on their potions during the preparation process and ridiculed the laughable versions of the potion they had been assigned to prepare. Then he dismissed the second years, grateful that they were so fearful about further angering him that they bolted from the classroom in a mass panic. At least the fumble fingered, daft troublemakers were being mercifully silent when they ran for the hills.

With a casual wave of his wand, he closed the dungeon door behind the last of the little snotty miscreants, barely missing entrapping the slowest student slug in the door frame. Then gathering his courage, he gestured quickly with his wand. The parchment became airborne, flew from the tray and landed in front of him. Not wanting to directly touch the pink parchment further, he tapped the parchment with his wand.

"_Os obvius!" _

The wax kitten gave a plaintive, last meow as it was ripped asunder as the parchment opened. He tried to stop his mind from contemplating how Dolores Umbridge would react in the same situation… but it was an extremely satisfying daydream…

A nauseating sweet smell drifted from the pink parchment, interrupting his pleasant reverie of loud screams with pink fluff flying everywhere. The stench was horrific, causing him nearly to puke, and considering that he had survived Neville Longbottom for as long as he had, that was indeed saying something.

Pink, perfumed ink? He would have immediately failed any student that thought to use pink, _**perfumed**_ ink in his class.

By Merlin's Dirty and Much Darned Socks, how _**OLD**_ was Dolores Umbridge?

Three?

_Professor Snape,_

_Here are the results of my examination of you and your teaching methods. _

_At this time you are on Probation, as I feel that several areas listed below are in much need of improvement._

_I will examine your class in a fortnight to further determine if your probation is to be continued. I am confident that you will make every effort to improve in the areas that you are deficient. It goes without saying, that probation is only a temporary option. Continual deficiencies in key areas will be cause for dismissal._

_Knowledge of Subject: O_

_Trustworthiness: T  
Comments: Former Death Eater_

_Loyalty to the Ministry's methods of Teaching: T  
Comments: Strengthening Draught being taught to students. _

Masochistically, Snape continued to read the parchment silently, counting the numbers of T's and D's on the various Ministry biased minutiae that would make The-Boy-That-Lived's-Grades-Look-Like-He-Was-A-Bloody-Genius-In-Comparision. Yes, he enjoyed pain and suffering, after a lifetime full of it… but even Severus Snape had a breaking point, which was after receiving a T for

Quote

_Scaring the Knickers off his students. They're children, Professor Snape, not prisoners in Azkaban_.

End of Quote.

He angrily tapped the parchment with his wand, and silently thought, "_Ignis igneus!"_

Snape watched the parchment combust completely, leaving only a trace of a sickening mix of odors in the air; the sweet scent of perfume and the smell of burnt cat hair.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was sitting next to Filius Flitwick. The two teachers were in the empty staff room in the midst of a very intense though hushed discussion. The diminutive Charms Master was upset and Minerva wished she knew what to say. It was hard to comfort a man old enough to be her great-great grandfather and who had been her Charms instructor to boot those many, many years ago. 

"You're on… _**PROBATION**_, Filius?"

It was ludicrous, the very idea that Filius Flitwick was on Dolores' little list of probationers. She knew full well why she was on it, but Filius? He had taught at the school for over a _**hundred**_ years, was the bloody head of Ravenclaw… and… it just boggled her mind that Dolores had placed _**FILIUS FLITWICK**_ on probation. It couldn't be because Dolores hadn't received an O.W.L. in _**charms**_? Even the Weasley twins had! By Merlin's Beard, everyone from Albus on down, had double checked _**that**_. It wasn't that the Weasley twins were stupid; far from it… they just didn't focus and apply themselves.

Except to pranks.

"Yes," the little Charms instructor squeaked. "I'm on probation."

He pushed the pink parchment at Minerva. Quickly, she whispered a spell so that she couldn't inhale the perfume that many of the staff members were secretly calling Eau de Toad.

"And do you know why?" His voice squeaked again, showing how upset he was. "I passed every part of her little freak show. Read it… _**Read it, Minerva**_."

She read the childish handwriting of Dolores' report swiftly, marveling at how well Filius has scored on the Dolores-meter. Outstanding on _**everything**_!

Except for his height, but then again… she had failed _**that**_, as she towered over Umbridge.

But putting an instructor of Flitwick's instructional stature on probation for his height? How could he be on probation for THAT, and then she saw a scribble at the very bottom of the page. An icy hand reached for her heart and squeezed it… of all the _**STUPID**_ reasons to be put on probation. Her eyes looked into Filius' eyes and he wearily nodded his head.

"You're not trustworthy… because…" Minerva stopped, unable to give voice to that arse Dolores' idiotic prejudices.

"Because my great-great-great-grandmother dallied with a goblin. I'm not pure human, Minerva… I'm only 31/32nd parts human. That's the stated reason why I'm on probation. By Merlin's Beard, it's a bloody good thing that Remus Lupin isn't still on staff. Umbridge would have a holiday with a werewolf."

"Your smidgeon of goblin blood can't be the real reason why you're on probation, Filius. Of all the mindless prejudices!"

Minerva's voice firmed, even as she instinctively straightened her robes. It was an automatic gesture, as though she was putting on her armor to go forth and do battle. Regally, she rose from her seat.

The small Charms Master placed his hand on Minvera's and the physical contact seemed to startle her. The witch looked down at her old friend; precariously placed on a half dozen assorted cushions, he looked older, smaller and frailer than she ever remembered him being. She had to defend the Ravenclaw from this insanity, no matter what the cost. He was a fellow teacher, her former instructor, and most importantly, Filius Flitwick was her dear friend and confidante.

"Don't," Flitwick whispered softly. "We can't loose you. You confront Dolores directly and she'll find a reason for you to be replaced by another of her ilk. Most of the staff is on probation, so don't throw everything away just for me."

"Rolanda Hooch isn't on probation… nor is Pomona Sprout," Minerva retorted with a snort of disbelief.

"Dolores couldn't put Hooch on probation as Rolanda was Cornelius Fudge's favorite female Quidditch player. He gets all school boyish when he's around her. I may be small, but I observe. Damn shame he's such a fool that he doesn't realize that she's a Beater for the other team," Filius reminded her with a slight squeak of laughter. "Pomona… Pomona isn't classified as dangerous to the Ministry, as who in their right mind would be afraid of a dirty witch covered in dirt and mulch?"

"I would be," Minera retorted, remembering momentous events from years past. Easy going Pomona Sprout was a Hufflepuff after all, and she turned into a literal badger when goaded. "I know exactly what Pomona is capable of doing."

"They don't," Filius explained. "Dolores is afraid of Dumbledore because Cornelius Fudge is. She's frightened of you because you're the one of the Unholy Triumvirate most likely to lead the entire school in a rebellion against her."

Minerva opened her mouth to protest, and Filius interrupted.

"Forgive me for interrupting, but who would lead the charge against her? Minerva, my dear, I've often told you that you should have been in Ravenclaw. That was not idle flattery…but the truth. Put the pieces together. See what she sees."

She nodded her head. If she was the Toad, who would she fear among the professors? The answer came easily to her, and as she began to speak aloud, Flitwick nodded his head approvingly.

"Who would stand up against her? Gryffindor bravery would lead the rebellion, and combining it with Ravenclaw smarts and Slytherin sneakiness could cause an explosive reaction. We're a threat. Not dear, sweet, gentle Hufflepuff."

"She believes that if we're on probation, we won't act against her… _**directly**_…" Flitwick spoke softly before laughing. "She's a fool, because sometimes indirect action can be far more powerful than one on one confrontation. Remember that old saw, Minvera? For the want of a spell, Minerva, the Ministry was lost."

Yes. Common sense would have reared its ugly head before she confronted Dolores directly, but damn it, she wanted and needed to do something. It was Flitwick, after all! The Senior House Head and a very close friend.

"Severus was the last of us to be evaluated," Minerva paused before continuing slowly. "I'm not even sure if he's even on probation. He may not tell me even if he is. Unlike Horace, he doesn't reveal much."

"Unlike our former Potions Instructor, I don't believe Severus will run and hide either," Filius retorted. "I know the boy quite well."

The two instructors shared a pained laugh, as they had their fill of listening to Horace Slughorn's longwinded discussions about his intricate web of connections he had made throughout the years.

The Charms instructor sighed before he rubbed his aching head.

"It's only recent years that the heads of your two houses have not been friendly, in spite of the feelings between your two Houses' students. This is not our weekend to watch the Houses as Pomona's turn starts after dinner. I suggest a strategy meeting at my suite later tonight. I need you to ask Severus to attend."

"My relationship with Severus is not as cordial as the relationship between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff is," Minerva reminded Filius of the obvious. "He may not agree to join us."

"We're at war, Minerva," Filius retorted. "Let bygones be bygones. We have to protect the students. I'll get Pomona to pop into our meeting."

"Why can't you invite him to the meeting? He'll attend if you request him to do so."

"We have to protect the students, Minerva," he repeated firmly. "I predict that Dumbledore will be removed as Headmaster before the school year ends. We will need to be prepared and that means that all the House Heads need to be on speaking terms. That includes you and the lad. All the House Heads must work together, Minerva."

She uneasily recalled the last time the House Heads had met for a strategy meeting.

Voldemort… Horace Slughorn had been the Slytherin Head then while Severus Snape had been still among the Death Eaters. Filius, as the Senior Head of House, had called for a strategy meeting among the House Heads and Horace had not responded.

No. Slughorn had been afraid, secreted away in his classroom, unwilling to make a stand for either side, hoping that whoever was victorious would look kindly upon him and his formidable talents for not interfering. If Horace had actually gotten off the bloody fence, his connections would have been exceptionally useful.

The great bloody fool.

Instead, it had been just the three of them, Gryffindor's Lion, Ravenclaw's Eagle and Hufflepuff's Badger, swearing that they would defend Hogwarts and their students, be they pure-blooded, half-blooded or Muggle-born, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or even… SLYTHERIN…with the very last drop of their lifeblood.

Without Horace's support, they were unable to muster the complete defenses of Hogwarts. The Castle would not respond and the paintings were unable to help. The Ghost Council could have bowed to the will of Three House Heads, but the Bloody Barron, being Slytherin… had refused to lend their assistance because of Horace Slughorn's inability to get off the bloody fence.

No Barron, no Peeves.

Bloody hell, they needed Severus!

Albus Dumbledore trusted him, and that should have been enough for her. Albus had put his faith in many people in his lifetime… and he had never been wrong yet. But she didn't trust Snape, not completely, as he was a cipher to her. All these years he had worked at Hogwarts as an instructor and she had never caught a glimpse of the true Severus Snape. He wore a mask, even on those few times when they conversed, and she wondered anew at what he was hiding.

And he _**was**_ concealing something. The secret was in his eyes, how he talked, and in his ramrod straight posture.

"The Head of the Houses must be as one on this, and if necessary, we'll force that damn Slytherin by hook or by crook to stand with us," Minerva McGonagall decided. "He'll be there… even if I have to drag the git here by his ear."

The small Charms Master laughed then turned serious. "Remember… Albus can not be made aware."

Minerva nodded her head in understanding. If Albus was unaware, then only they would hang if everything went wrong.

* * *

McGonagall swept into Severus Snape's office, a force of nature akin to the ocean waves beating upon the shore. Truly all she needed was a set of bagpipers loudly playing "Black Bear" and her face painted blue, and she'd be the perfect picture of An Outraged Scot. Dear Dolores Umbridge was really getting to Minerva if the trademarked Minerva McGonagall composure was slipping that badly, Severus Snape dryly thought. The Deputy Headmistress stopped a few feet from his desk and he decided to keep marking his essays. 

"I hope I am not interrupting," she began.

"Alas, you are," he retorted quickly.

To his keen eye, he noticed that the woman he had nicknamed the Gryffindor's Lioness slightly stiffened in annoyance, and he mentally thought, "Point to Severus." He then put his quill down as though he was the one bestowing the favor to a supplicant, and he looked at her.

"To what do I owe… this unexpected _honor_?" The Potion Masters questioned. His voice was smooth, silkily smooth, though he stressed the word honor with enough acidity to scare lesser mortals.

"Filius has called for a meeting of the Head of the Houses," Minerva explained. Her tone was just as smooth, as though she hadn't heard the slight twist he had deliberately placed on his words.

Ah. Minerva… it was always a highlight of his day to parry words with her. He couldn't verbally joust with Sprout… for she was Hufflepuff…liable to break into tears at a cross word and Filius Flitwick would just give him a stare, making him feel like he was an insignificant eleven year old once more, wearing patched fourth hand robes, clutching his mother's battered student wand.

But Minerva… he relished their verbal confrontations because their disagreements meant that she was forced to focus on him and _**just**_ him. Their jousting was akin to verbal foreplay.

The few times he had made her laugh out loud had been relived in his mind so often that he could no longer truly believe that they had happened as he had remembered.

Ever since he was a shy adolescent, he had possessed a painful crush on his stern Transfiguration teacher. Unlike his mother who had been beaten into cowed submission by his abusive father, Minerva stood tall, proud and equal to any man. She was composure and serenity personified, while his inner turmoil ate away at his soul. As an instructor, Minerva instinctively decreed respect, esteem and dare he even think it? FEAR… from everyone… _including the Dark Lord_… while he had commanded nothing more than ridicule and torture by her young Lions.

Potter. Black. Pettigrew. Lupin.

How his life would have been different if he had been placed in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin.

But the Sorting Hat had succinctly summed up his parts, declared him utterly wanting in valor and courageousness, two characteristics necessary for Gryffindor; while he was bright, not truthfully clever enough for Ravenclaw and lacking any ounce of the humanity for which the House of Hufflepuff was well loved.

But he had watched Minerva. During his student years, wanting, wishing… craving… nothing more than a kind word and perhaps a soft touch in acknowledgement of a lesson well learned. And now that he had returned to Hogwarts… he desired _**more**_.

Naturally, Minerva McGonagall, Bastion of Gryffindor Pride, Upholder of the Values that Godric Gryffindor held most dear, would be appalled to know that the Greasy Haired Git with a Dark Mark tattooed on his arm and on his soul thought of her in _**THAT**_ way, so he said not a word. But who was he kidding, really?

Even he didn't dare think of Minerva in _**THAT**_ way, as he held her on such a high marble pedestal.

Merlin knew that it wasn't because he was a celibate monk. Far from it.

There were the Dark Revels that the Dark Lord enjoyed, where the Death Eaters had their pick of attractive victims. Raping muggle women made his skin crawl and his soul scream, but that act of violence was part of his cover. He needed to be the picture-perfect Death Eater and that included participating joyfully and willingly in the Dark Revels. Yes, some might be able to claim that what he did was for a Greater Good, but it mattered not whenever he first looked upon his chosen victim.

They always said the same thing.

_Please. Don't do this_.

Plus he regularly visited the dregs of Knockturn Alley to get his physical urges eased. Every stopover he used a different Glamour to conceal who he was, but each and every whore, the young, the old, the pretty and the not-so-pretty, all mockingly called him Mr. Silence, as their physical transactions were completed in utter silence on his part. Merlin curse his damnable father for breaking his jaw when he was a young boy, as his distinctive drawl was too unique a feature for people _**not**_ to notice.

Thank Merlin; he hadn't yet bedded a former student yet, as he recognized a few of the down trodden girls from earlier years. The whores thought it was a sexual quirk in which he inspected each girl for the tell tale scent of a Glamour before their sessions, but his soul was damned enough. To have sex with a student… alone a former student… was a one way express ticket to eternal damnation. On the infrequent times he recognized a former student; he would shake his head to signify his refusal to the transaction. But before he sent the girl away, he'd slip a Galleon or three into her trembling hands, for the women he rejected were so new to the life that they still showed their fear.

_Please. Don't do this_.

He should hate the girls, as Snape knew about their assorted wagers. Each thought they'd be _**the**_ girl to shatter Mr. Silence's muteness and reveal who he truly was to the entire world… or just their personal, private hell better known as Knockturn Alley.

Foolish girls.

He had first learned from his father how not to cry out from pain a long, long time ago, and pleasure… was nothing more than another form of pain.

Speaking of pleasure and pain, how he thanked Merlin that only one person knew of his longing for the woman he could never have.

Not Minerva. Not the Dark Lord…

But damnable, whimsical Albus Dumbledore knew his secret.

When he had renounced the Death Eaters and had offered to be a double agent, Dumbledore had cast the Legilimens spell onhim, desiring to know the true reason for his change. Really, why should anyone trust Severus? Dumbledore hadn't been gentle as the Headmaster had rummaged through his mind like a second year looking for a clean pair of socks. He had been in Dumbledore's study, refusing to cry out, forced to stare into Dumbledore's blue eyes even as he relived assorted hated memories.

Trying to protect the one secret he dared not reveal, he tried to keep his mental barriers down, allowing Albus to have full access to his mind. Why would Albus search for those well hidden, silent thoughts that were hidden beneath the loud and vulgar thoughts of his mind?

"_**Why should I trust you, Severus? Prove to me that you are not a viper, ready to strike!"**_

_He was a small boy, hiding, watching father hit his mother. She was a witch, why did she not defend himself? Tobias raised his hand once more and he relived the sickening fear of a terrified boy that had known that his father was going to kill his mother. He ran from his hiding space, stepping between his mother and his father, taking the hard blow. The agony of his jaw breaking flared anew…_

_Please. Don't do this_.

_**"You try occlumency on me, Severus?"**_

_Pain. Pain. Oh Merlin, the pain._

_Old memories._

_Lucius Malfoy inviting him to join the New Order. Lucius, who had everything he never had, extending a welcoming hand. The alien feelings of belonging and being accepted by others. They __**admired**__ him for his magical skills._

_"__**Severus…Why are you turning your back on that?"**_

"_Levicorpus!!!!"_

_James Potter had hexed him, threatening to unpants him in front of the mocking crowd. He screamed a counter curse, felt himself falling as Potter's spell collapsed. He relieved the painful impact, his stomach churning when he heard the sounds of his accident. The sickening snap of his forearm. The sharp crack as his wand shattered. The sound of breaking glass as his ink bottles shattered in his book bag… the spreading of red blood mixed with the black ink created a growing pool that spread and stained his clothes._

_The formerly brave in numbers crowd scattered in fear, leaving him alone while he cradled his broken arm. The bones of his forearm were sticking through his skin, and he marveled at how similar they looked to his snapped wand. But sanity soon returned and he began whispering spells… striving to fix something. _

_His arm. _

_His wand. _

_His __**books**_

_He would not cry. Would not cry… but his mother would be furious. _

_The school paid for his books, his clothes… everything… as he was attending Hogwarts on a merit scholarship… but he remembered the contract he and his mother had signed. The school wouldn't pay to replace anything that was ruined due to horseplay. His family would be responsible for replacing the whole ruined lot. Severus knew that Tobias Snape would __**kill**__ him. Then his mother would beat him senseless. There was no way they'd be able to afford to replace the wand, let alone the spell books. He was as good as expelled._

_"Reparo Wand!" He whispered the spell over and over again, trying to salvage something… anything… from this situation. His wand remained broken…the ink was still spreading…Snape was getting light headed but still he doggedly repeated the spell. He had to save something… no matter how small… It hadn't been his fault. All he had done was walk near where Potter's gang had been stationed. Then the wolves had attacked..._

_Why, why, WHY did they always go after him? They had everything he lacked, friends, money..._

_Please. Don't do this_.

_"The boy's shocky," said a male voice. _

"_Poppy's aware, Filius," said Professor McGonagall. "She says to get him to the infirmary as soon as we can safely do so."_

_Her hand was on his face, and she muttered a soft spell. His head was resting in her lap? Someone was pressing down on his arm, and he bit his lip so not to cry out._

_"I'll need to straighten the arm, there's no pulse."_

_Pomona Sprout? Three House heads were here?_

_He felt his arm being pulled, the bones no longer grinding against each other. A lesser soul would have screamed… but Severus refused._

_Emotional control. Control your emotions. Do not let them control you_

_"It's straight, Pomona. Filius, you better splint it before the boy chews through his lip."_

"_Ferula!" Flitwick casted._

_His arm was then magically bandaged and splinted. Snape was growing dizzier by the moment, the sky was spinning and wonders of wonders he was looking __**UP**__ at Filius Flitwick. The diminutive Flitwick was furious, and he knew the Charm Master's anger was his fault._

_"Go to sleep, lad. When you wake up, your arm will be as good as new. Shhh…" McGonagall whispered softly, even as her hand began stroking his face._

_So tired. Couldn't fall asleep as those damnable Marauders would attack when he was defenseless. But his eyes were growing heavy…his head was spinning like a top… the pain was receding… it was no longer razor sharp but instead a dull ache._

_"Easy… you're safe. No one will harm you while I'm here," she whispered. "Go to sleep."_

_He implicitly trusted her promise of sanctuary and so he allowed himself to drift off to blessed sweet oblivion. _

"_**MINERVA? YOU TRUST MINERVA?"**_

_He tried to block Dumbledore… but the old wizard was shattering his mental barricades with an ease that truly frightened Severus. __**  
**__  
When he woke up, he was in the infirmary. Alone. His arm was pain free, but it was still splinted. Gingerly, he moved his fingers, and he sighed in relief when they all moved.  
__**  
**__Whenever one of the damn Marauders so much as stubbed one of their little Gryffindor's toes, they were surrounded by visitors, sweets and much weeping from their respective parents. But he was alone and Severus wondered if anyone had bothered informing his mother. Would it be better that no one had? Or that they had, and she couldn't be bothered to show?_

_"The wand's shattered beyond repair. The books are utterly unsalvageable," said a male voice. "I've spent the last hour in a futile effort to save something. He's here on a scholarship, so we either have to petition the board of governors to release funds to replace everything or we do it ourselves. It will take months to get money from the board."_

_Filius Flitwick, his mind prompted._

_"The boy's hitting a growth spurt." Pomona Sprout commented. "He needs new robes and pants; as he's taller and lankier then he was last month. He's growing like a weed!"_

_"It happens to all, Pomona," McGonagall dryly commented._

"_Alas, Minerva, not to all," squeaked Professor Flitwick. "So, we're agreed?"_

_The teachers laughed easily, and McGonagall dryly quipped about Horace Slughorn naturally not being around to handle this financial responsibility._

_"He's at a Holyhead Harpies game," Sprout snickered. "With his bloody group of Slugs."_

_"Very well, we'll get the boy suitably attired. I'll handle getting him a wand. Fortunately, it wasn't his wand arm, so I can test him here at least. Hopefully I have a wand that will work with him, so we don't have to take him to Olivander's. Pomona, make arrangements to get his books assembled at the bookstore and Minerva… you'll get the boy clothed in something suitable."_

_"He can make the trip with you … though don't overdo it. He's still recovering, and I want him back within the afternoon."_

"_Yes, Poppy," chorused Sprout, Flitwick and McGonagall in unision._

_The three House Heads then visited him. HIM! Visited by three House Heads to which he did not belong. To Severus' surprise, McGonagall assured him that the Marauders would be punished. The four had detention for a month with Filch and Potter was suspended from his house's Quidditch team for that time frame._

_"It appears to have been a stupid prank that went wrong. I don't believe that they deliberately tried to break your arm," McGonagall explained. "They'll be by later to apologize."_

_He didn't want that. He wanted to be left alone as those damn boys had wanted to kill him, to hell with whatever blinders McGonagall wore in reference to her beloved Lion Cubs. To be subjected to Potter and his cronies while he was in the infirmary unnerved him. Wandless, he couldn't defend himself._

_"Are you up to taking a small trip?" Flitwick questioned._

_That simple question led to the most remarkable afternoon._

_He was escorted to Flitwick's personal chambers by the three teachers and __**everyone**__ stared. Everyone! Once there, he was instructed to try out a dozen or so wands to see if any of them worked for him. One handedly, he unrolled several of the cloth rolls that held Flitwick's various wands, marveling at the delicate, finely crafted wands. In the background, he could hear Sprout teasing Flitwick about his many Wizard wands and what that supposedly meant about Flitwick's sexual prowess, even while Flitwick confirmed that they were dueling wands from when he was much younger and far more reckless. McGonagall laughed as Flitwick reenacted a particularly hard fought duel and he never thought he had heard such a marvelous sound as her laughter filled the room. _

_**"Severus, Minerva again?"**_

_Walking in Diagon Alley with McGonagall as the Deputy Headmistress replaced his ruined school supplies. Nothing too fancy, but his new second hand robes weren't covered with patches and the hems weren't frayed. And they were long enough to cover his ankles! But his school books…they were __**NEW**__! Unwritten upon and pristine and Professor Flitwick had promised to charm his notes from his old books to the new ones._

_The feel of her hand on his back, as she guided him through a door._

_Her conspiratorial wink as she suggested that they finish the day with a stop at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Staring in disbelief as the prim and proper Minerva McGonagall daintily licked fudge off one finger with a cat like grace._

_**"Again Minerva…**__**What is this fascination with Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape? I will find the answer. Did Voldemort send you here to harm her?"  
**__  
He tried to hide his secret behind the strongest mental shields he could, but Albus Dumbledore continued to press and force his way into his mind._

_**"What do you fear to reveal to me, young Severus?" **_

_Merlin's beard, Albus was causing him such pain. He couldn't think. His mind was racing in circles… and the agony of Albus forcing his presence into his mind._

_Please. Don't do this_.

_**"What do you fear?"**_

_The pressure hurt far worse than his father's fist against his face. His soul was screaming in fear…No, Father… forgive me… don't be mad at me…._

_Please. Don't do this_.

_**"You feared your father...**__**when he was angry with you… what did he do? Severus… I am rapidly growing impatient with you, Severus."**_

_Dumbledore's anger caused him to panic. Albus was so much stronger than his father... He screamed in terror as he felt  
his mind begin to crack as Dumbledore began rummaging through his mind even more aggressively. He was losing his mind... He was..._

_PLEASE MASTER, DON'T DO THIS!!!!!!!!!!  
__  
His mind flashed to what happened to him when his father was that enraged and then Albus Dumbledore was the one pushing him towards the closet closing the door on him leaving him alone in the dark closet where as a young boy he had been sentenced when he was bad because he was bad and Albus knew he was wicked and wicked boys always got punished by their fathers because their fathers loved them and wanted them to be good even though the little boy was evil and the darkness wouldn't just hurt him the darkness would swallow his soul and the light from the hallway would be the only thing to prevent him being completely surrounded by the darkness there was the slightest crack at the bottom of the closet door that let the light in but the door was closing it was dark he was alone, and he was surrounded by the darkness the darkness was absolute as Dumbledore had turned the light off in the hallway so the little crack of light was gone even while Dumbledore was locking the door he was securing the door he was padlocking the door and Snape tried not to scream because a wicked sniveling boy only further angered the bad boy's loving father who was forced to punish him severely as he was a bad little boy but the panic was rising as he hated and feared the dark…_

_He was panicking, having an attack of such overwhelming terror that he couldn't breath, couldn't think._

_He was locked in the closet and Dumbledore, his father, his mother, Sirius Black, Remus, James, Peter had barred the door. They were leaning on it…with all their weight… not letting any of the blessed light reach him… because he was wicked… wicked…. They were laughing… because they knew he was terrified. No matter how hard he tried to be brave... he couldn't… he was a coward, a sissy._

_Clawing his face, he welcomed the pain…because then he wasn't alone, drifting in a dark, empty void. He ripped his face raw…determined not to scream out loud… but in his mind… he was screaming…. And he knew… his sanity was close to snapping… because he was trapped in the abyss... forever and ever._

_Unexpectedly, there was the faintest sliver of light. Dumbledore, sweet, merciful Dumbledore, had turned the light on in the hallway…so he wasn't alone in the pitch dark. Relief filled him and the tight band around his chest eased enough so he could breathe._

_**"Darkness isn't so bad, Severus. One's not always alone in the darkness." **_

_Soft sounds in the dark, the soft feel of a woman; all the while, knowing that the only woman he desired would forever be out of his reach. But it didn't matter when the lights were off because he could pretend it was __**her**__ moaning beneath him._

_No! Those weren't his thoughts as he never thought of her in __**THAT**__ way. It was Dumbledore in the light forcing him to defile her with his corrupt touch and his dark need. _

_Desecration!_

_He thought of the blank-eyed, hollow, defeated women that he regularly bedded in Knockturn Alley. He was dead inside, and they were lifeless so their coming together was meaningless to the both of them._

_**"It would be so different if the woman you bedded was the one for which you cared, Severus."**_

_A woman's soft voice, calling out his name, urging him on, wanting him to savor the experience as their bodies blended. Never had he felt like this…_

_No. __**No.**__ He NEVER thought of her in THAT way. _

_**GET OUT OF MY MIND!!!!!!!!! DESECRATION!!!**_

_**"Severus Snape. Is this woman the reason why you turned your back on the Death Eaters?"**_

_In the darkness where Dumbledore was sentencing him forever and ever because he was wicked boy and Albus Dumbledore was righteous and good, Snape held on tightly to her name, refusing to let Albus Dumbledore take it from him._

_He wouldn't shame her by acknowledging his affection for her. __**Never**_

_Her laugh sounded in his mind, and Dumbledore pounced on the noise.  
__**  
"What's the woman's name, Severus? You'll tell me, won't you? Who is such a wicked little boy protecting? Was it Lily Evans Potter? You two were very close, once upon a time, Severus. Is she the one?"  
**_

_He had been friends with Lily once, but she had fixated on James Potter, and so that relationship had ended. Yes, he had once deeply mourned the lost of the only friend he had ever known but now he didn't give a rat's dirty ass about the Potters. James' best mate, that damnable Sirius Black, had tried to kill him after all and the entire damn lot deserved each other. James had only stopped it from occurring so that freak Remus wouldn't get expelled from Hogwarts. _

_It hadn't been his fault as he hadn't known it was them when he had overheard part of the Prophecy… he had told the Dark Lord… but the Dark Lord had been the one to decided that he needed to strike against the Potters… He had given that information to Dumbledore to show that he was serious about turning against the Dark Lord._

_Wasn't that enough? Dumbledore could save the bloody Potters. Why wasn't that enough to prove his sincerity?_

_**"Not Lily? Then who, Severus? Who is the reason for your change?"  
**_

_An overwhelming sense of being unclean; listening in sick revulsion as The Dark Lord told his delighted followers what he had planned for the upstart, mud blood bitch who had never known her place. Even when the Dark Lord had been a student, he had such sick plans for her…and now that the Dark Lord's hate had decades in which to fester… the bitch would pay. The closeness he felt toward the other Death Eaters, the intimacy, the brotherhood... was revealed in all its ugliness and fetid nature to him._

_He worried that they'd take it upon themselves to hurt her._

_**"Yes. Only a wicked little boy like you would desire to be friends with people like THEM. Tell me the truth, Severus." **_

_No. He couldn't be party to __**that**__. He'd willingly die before he let the Dark Lord or his ilk harm M….. If it was the last thing he ever did, he'd protect Minnn… He'd protect her even from Albus._

_The agony increased tenfold and he began to weep._

_No… Master… Please… no…_

_Albus was pulling her name from his lips. No. No. __**Noooooooooooo**__…._

_Please. Don't do this_.

_**"Severus. Who did the Dark Lord want to harm?"**_

_Minnnnnneerrrvvvaaaa…_

_**"Minerva McGonagall?**__**You are willing to turn traitor in order to protect Minerva, Severus?"  
**_

_Snape collapsed to the floor after Albus painfully ripped the secret from his mind. Only then did Albus cease the relentless rape of his mind.__For what seemed like years, Severus stayed on the floor, prostate before his new Master, fearfully anticipating for the blow to land. Would Dumbledore being a mindless brute like his late and unlamented father? Would he be like the Dark Lord, inflicting a punishment that was physical, emotional and psychological? Or would the older man be like his mother, warping love, hate, despair, affection and pain into something dark and twisted…._

_No... no... it would be far worst, as Dumbledore was ... __**whimsical.**_

_The blows would land for Dumbledore would be rightfully furious about his inappropriate feelings for Minerva. How could the Head Master not be? A known Death Eater... secretly fancying the Deputy Headmistress. He bit his lip hard, vowing that he would take the punishment like a damnable Gryffindor. But the old dark fears returned, of those anxious times he had spent hiding, waiting for his father's festering anger to bubble forth, and the abuse to begin. That was always the worst part; the waiting, the building of an inescapable terror that would only find release after his father had punished him._

_He would take his punishment like a Gryffindor. Head held high... but instead his bravery ran for this hills and he had started to shake as his fear grew and grew. Instead of the feel of a man's fist, the impact of a boot in his ribs, he felt Dumbledore's fingers gently touch him on his shoulder. Before he could understand what was happening, Albus was holding him, rocking him, and the younger man took what little comfort he dared from the man he loved, feared and failed, much as he had loved, feared and failed Tobias Snape._

_"If you had only told me that your change of heart was due to Voldemort's plans for Minerva, I wouldn't have had to do that. I'm well aware of Voldemort's feelings regarding Minerva," whispered Dumbledore. "Minerva is protected as much as anyone can be during these dark times. Forgive me for doing that to you, Severus. I needed to be certain of you."_

_"Let me heal your face, Severus. I am sorry, my dear boy. Never did I think you would react that way. I had underestimated the strength of your regard for Minerva."_

_He nodded his acceptance, even as Dumbledore healed him. The wizard continued to hold him, and Snape leaned into his embrace._

_Then Snape kissed Dumbledore on his mouth… like he had been taught so many years ago by his mother. After she had finished punishing her son, his mother had trained him with a rough type of affection which had left him sickened, dazed and confused. He needed to thank her for punishing her because she loved him. They'd kiss, and she'd weep about such a wicked boy he was to make his mother, who loved him so very much, so sad._

_His Master was upset because he had to punish him… but it wasn't his Master's fault. He was flawed and needed correction._

_The older man didn't respond, and so Snape hesitantly proceeded from the closed mouth kissing to the far more intimate open mouth kissing that the Dark Lord had preferred. How far did his Master want him to go? Would his Master force him to share his bed?  
_

_It was then that Dumbledore pushed him away with gentle hands, and he nearly wept. For his Master was repulsed, and it was his fault.  
_

"_Master? How have I displeased you?"_

_"I'm not your Master, Severus," Dumbledore protested. "You are not chained to me, Severus."_

_"You are my Master…and you are far crueler than the Dark Lord. No wonder he feared you so," Snape whispered. "Don't tell her, I beg. I beseech you not shame her so…Master… please? I swear my allegiance to you…but please…do not tell her."_

_To his surprise, Dumbledore held out his hand, and motioned for Snape to clasp it. "You will be my Secret Keeper in this matter, Severus. I will speak of this to no one unless you yourself reveal it to them. It's not normal practice for the Secret Owner to be the Secret Keeper, but I do this, so you know that I trust you."_

Savagely, he chastised himself for letting his mind wander for Minerva was still talking.

"As the head of Slytherin, you will be expected to attend. It will be one hour after dinner. You are not to inform anyone."

A House meeting? Called by the senior most Staff Member? This was… unexpected. In fact, this was the first time since he had joined the Hogwarts Staff where he had been summoned such.

For a moment, Snape remembered Horace's less than thorough explanations of what the position of the Head of Slytherin required. The last thing Horace had told him had been…

"_Be careful, Snape. If Filius unexpectedly ever calls for a House meeting, you be wary, boy. I missed one… Only __**ONE**__, Snape, and the three of them have never forgiven me. The scheduled meetings are bad enough… but an unexpected one? Far, far worse, Snape."_

"Pray tell, Minerva, what matter is so all important that we're having a meeting tonight, rather than our regularly scheduled one?"

"Filius will inform you at the meeting," Gryffindor's Lioness tersely stated.

_Bloody, bloody hell. What the bloody hell had my little Slytherins done this time to get Filius' itty bitty knickers in a knot? I'll make those little brats pay for this. _

"My lack of enthusiasm for the regularly scheduled time wasting meetings is well known," Severus retorted. "I can assure you that my eagerness to attend a meeting where I am not given the courtesy of knowing what will be discussed is… less than zero."

Minvera's nostrils flared slightly. It was an emotional gesture that was akin to Pomona Sprout bursting into tears. The Lioness was extremely irritated with his attitude.

_Poor, poor Minvera. Another point to me! Severus two, Minerva zero._

"Filius has called the meeting. As the Senior Head of House, he does not feel the need to explain why he has done so. If you have a problem, I'd suggest you discuss it with Filius _at the meeting_. Do not be late, Severus. As you well remember, Flitwick dislikes tardiness."

The Lioness gave him a wintry smile, before leaving this office. He growled in disgust as Minerva had just verbally flipped him over her knee and had merrily proceeded to paddle his arse. And she knew that she had done so! That was the worst part of verbally jousting with the Deputy Headmistress. When one lost in their duels, the defeated party _**KNEW**_ that they had lost.

Well, it wasn't like he had anything planned for tonight anyway. He rubbed his aching temples, wishing he didn't hear Slughorn's voice once more.

"_Be careful, Snape. If Filius unexpectedly ever calls for a House meeting, you be wary, boy. I missed one… Only __**ONE**__, Snape, and the three of them have never forgiven me. The scheduled meetings are bad enough… but an unexpected one? Far, far worse, Snape."_

The Dark Mark on his arm began to burn, alerting him to the Dark Lord's summoning.  
_  
Bloody hell, I'm popular tonight. But it's still early; I should have enough time to get to Filius' meeting._


	2. Chapter 2

The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts hated to sneak. But here she was… creeping… tiptoeing… _**SNEAKING**_… to Filius' suite. She kept her ear out for Umbridge's distinctive voice and little girl laugh, but in next to no time she was entering Filius' suite, feeling as though she had barely escaped with her life after encountering a broody, fire breathing Hungarian Horntail.

"Welcome, Minvera! Couch? Chair? Settee?" Filius questioned; his wand at the ready.

Filius' suite showed the benefit of his being the Charm Instructor at Hogwarts for the last thousand or so years. Her conscience nagged her, and sternly reminded her that Flitwick wasn't THAT old and therefore she shouldn't let her jealousy over his suite cause her to be rude. His suite was enlarged through the use of several charms, so he had several bedrooms, a comprehensive Charm Library including copies of most of the Restricted section, a sunny open air porch, an astronomy tower… Fairy lights were suspended in mid-air, and classical music filled the air.

But in his main sitting room, there was only a scrolled arm bench, Flitwick sized, and a table, Flitwick height. To her delight there was a nice bowl of Pomona's Punch already on the table. It was merrily ablaze, and she would almost **_kill _**for a cup right then and there. It would have been nice to have the Potions Master brewing for their meetings, but Horace had found the very idea horrifying. A Potions Master of his skill? Brewing?

But Pomona's Punch was a fine alternative. It was a personal favorite of the Fat Friar and the brew had been refined over the last millennium by a dozen or so willing disciples and their many acolytes.

"I'll whip something up," Minvera quickly offered, as Flitwick's well meant attempts at furniture were often slightly uncomfortable for her long legs. "Severus is supposed to be attending. I didn't see him at dinner, but that's not out of the ordinary. Care to pour me a drink, Flitwick?"

She was trying to be positive, but Severus' empty chair in the Great Hall had mocked her through out the dinner.

_Snape's Slytherin. He'll pull another Horace, Minvera. You just wait._

Within minutes, Minerva had fashioned a comfortable, tartan plaid covered sofa, complete with Gryffindor colored throw pillows. She then created a dark colored sofa for Pomona. While the sofa would be returned back to Never Never after the meeting was finished, Minerva was still a stickler for cleanliness. Dirt would show less on the dark sofa.

Yet she did add a few yellow and black pillows to the sofa. Just because it was a serious meeting regarding the Toad, didn't preclude her from being festive.

Flitwick was about to hand her a cup of punch when he shook his head.

"Nothing for Severus?" Flitwick questioned. His moustache was quirked, which meant he knew damn well that she thought Severus was to be a no-show.

She bit back a very unladylike curse and carefully swished her wand, the gesture ending an elaborate wrist snap. A dark, severe wooden chair appeared. Well… perhaps the heavy chair was more like a throne, with serpents running up and down the chair legs and chair arms.

Flitwick laughed out loud in his delight at catching her, and flicked his wand. **_Pop! _**A small green seat cushion in Slytherin colors appeared on the throne.

"He'll appreciate the cushion," Minerva snapped. "He acted like he had a bad case of the piles when I told him about the meeting."

"Have a sip of Pomona's punch, Minerva. No use in waiting for refreshments before Severus arrives."

* * *

The Dark Lord was thoroughly irked with his supporters.

_It was pretty damn hard to the Biggest, Baddest thing to ever hit the Wizardling World when your fearless followers acted like a bunch of Drunken Punch and Judys._

_Glad I didn't bugger everything up._

That was Severus' first few, not completely, coherent thoughts upon regaining consciousness. He was lying prone in the dirt, and he thought that the unconscious Death Eater next him was Lucius Malfoy. Yes, it probably was - what with that hair.

_Lucius will run home from the meeting; beat up a few House Elves before demanding that they return his Death Eater Robes to their formerly pristine condition.__It's so hard to get dirt, blood and vomit out of Death Eater Robes!  
_  
The next round of thoughts was how much he bloody hurt. He ached and throbs in spots he didn't even know existed on the human body and the Dark Lord was still looking… shall he say it? Miffed.

Yes. The Dark Lord was Miffed. Torqued. Extremely Not Amused. Exceedingly Pissed off.

_I probably should have left a message for Filius that I might be delayed…_

That was his last coherent thought before he began screaming wildly when the Dark Lord raised his wand. To his eternal relief, his voice was not alone.

* * *

He was lying in the dirt.

Again!

And the Earth was wildly rotating on its axis, so fast and furious that Severus was amazed that all its inhabitants weren't flung into the great stellar beyond. Snape dug his fingers into the dirt, wanting to obtain some sort of purchase before he was lost to the great out there. Hesitantly, he opened one black eye and he realized the truth of the situation. The Earth _**wasn't**_ spinning faster than its norm.

No. It was just his brain.

Gingerly, he used his tongue to confirm that all his teeth were still in place. Then Snape began to spit out dirt, blood and whatever else was in his mouth.

What was he hearing? Could it be? It couldn't be!

There was sniveling. One of the Death Eaters was actually _**sniveling**_.

_**Snivellus**_. That hated nickname came to his mind, and he bit his tongue. Oh, sweet mother of Merlin, he hurt. Hurt wasn't the right word.

Agony didn't quite cut it either.

But he wouldn't shame himself further by weeping from the pain even as his finger nails were being pulled off by pliers. Hot coals were being gleefully stuffed in every orifice as salt was rained onto his body's open wounds even as his head spun and spun so fast that he couldn't open both his eyes.

_**Yes**_. That's exactly how he felt.

Just another day in the exciting life of Severus Snape.

"Severus," the Dark Lord's voice was cool, showing no sign of anger. "Rise. Follow me."

It took a while for his unresponsive body to respond to his urgent demands to rise and walk, but his Lord was in a good mood and so forgave him his dawdling. His head had stopped spinning also, so he was able to walk moderately upright, rather than staggering about as though he was impersonating Mundungus Fletcher after an all night pub crawl.

_Nothing like inflicting a round or two of the Cruciatus Curse on your followers to cheer oneself._

The Dark Lord stared into his eyes, and Snape matched him stare for stare.

_I am my Lord's most faithful servant. I obey. I follow. I will not fail.  
_

Snape repeated those thoughts firmly until The Dark Lord nodded his head. The connection between the two of them was broken, and Snape tried to settle his queasy stomach. Matching gazes with the Dark Lord was akin to swimming in raw sewage. He'd shower tonight, scrubbing his body raw to try to escape that feeling.

"I am following the events at Hogwarts with great interest. I can not believe how the Ministry is refusing to teach the students defensive spells! When the time comes, they will be unable to defend themselves!"  
_  
The students will be slaughtered!_

Snape tried not to think that, not wanting The Dark Lord to sense his thoughts. He tried to rid his mind of emotion, empty it...make it blank and calm… but he thought of the Great Hall stained with the students' blood. The blood congealing on the walls and tables, little pointy black hats floating in a sea of blood, the blank accusing eyes of the dead that would follow him forever more, cursing him for failing them.

How he loathed the little fumble fingered monsters… but the very thought of slaughtering every _**single**_ student…

"You will create a distraction, Severus. Dumbledore will easily handle the Umbridge problem… except if someone is undermining him. You will do so. You will sow chaos in the fertile soils of Hogwarts, Severus. This is my command to you!"

"I will obey!" Severus vowed.

"With Dumbledore indisposed, I will have my chance to pay that Mud Blood Bitch back."

The world turned, and Severus found himself once more lying on the ground. In an all too familiar scene, he began spitting up blood and dirt, marveling that any of his teeth were still intact after today and that his nose had remained unscathed from damage. The Dark Lord had sent him back as close as he could to Hogwarts, and so Snape had made a spectacular descent face forward onto the hard ground just outside the gates.

_How long did that meeting take? _

Looking at the sky above to order to estimate the time, Snape groaned. He had missed Flitwick's damnable meeting. Bloody. Bloody Hell.

Some days, it just wasn't worth getting out of bed.

"_Be careful, Snape. If Filius unexpectedly ever calls for a House meeting, you be wary, boy. I missed one… Only __**ONE**__, Snape, and the three of them have never forgiven me."_

It took several minutes, but he was able to stand. It took far longer for him to create a Glamour that hid the physical results of being repeatedly cursed by the Dark Lord. He'd need to report to the Head Master... then to Filius. But first, he needed to stop at his quarters to pick up a potion. If Umbridge stopped him in the hallway, surely there was nothing amiss about the Potions Master bringing the Charms Master a potion for his legendary lumbago. It was nothing more than professional courtesy.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick were intent on draining Pomona's Punch bowl to the very bottom. Pomona's Punch was so far thwarting them in that noble endeavor, and in fact, was quite likely to be victorious over the two heroes as Pomona had casted a refill spell on the bowl.

"He blew us off, just like Horace," Minerva scowled. "It's been almost two hours, Filius."

"I did think better of him and so I haven't written him off yet," Flitwick squeaked. "But regardless if he shows up tonight or not, we'll manage Minerva. We always have."

They toasted each other and their respective houses, before taking a good solid slug of Pomona's Punch.

There was a knock on the door, and a softly spoken request for permission to enter.

"Speak of the Devil..." Filius drolly commented.

Minerva finished tersely... "And he shall appear."

* * *

Albus wasn't at Hogwarts, and he had been stopped by Umbridge on his way to Flitwick's. He had blown her off, claiming that he needed to administer the lumbago potion to Flitwick immediately as it lost its potency by leaps and bounds after it was bottled. Naturally, the Toad had failed Potions as she was a heavy-handed cretin, so she didn't remember that this particular potion in fact strengthened as it aged.

Before he knocked on the wall next to Rowena Ravenclaw's portrait, he tried not to remember the first time he had met his fellow House Heads.

_He was kneeling on the floor, his black eyes firmly staring downward. Albus had made him drink __Veritaserum__in front of the other House heads and he knew that he'd willingly answer any question they'd ask. His fear was overwhelming him, and he was trembling. His new Master saw his apprehension, put one hand on his shoulder and whispered soft, soothing words._

_"Easy, lad. This is a lesson you must endure so that you can learn from it," the Head Master informed him. "You have much to relearn."_

_Pomona Sprout, as junior House Head had begun the Inquisition. She shook her head in disbelief when the situation was explained. Snape would be given the positions of Potions Master at the school and Slytherin House Head, but only if the other House heads agreed._

_"I do believe you've gotten quite dotty in your old age, Albus," the Hufflepuff Head informed Hogwarts' Headmaster. Her warm smile took the sting out of her words. "But I trust you, Albus. If you think the boy is redeemable, then yes, I agree to having him on staff. Welcome to the Hogwarts' staff, Professor Severus Snape."_

_"Minerva?" Dumbledore softly questioned. "What's your verdict?"_

_"I don't trust Severus. Professor Dumbledore, you may be quite confident in your sincere wish for redemption, but I have my doubts. He's a Death Eater, Albus. Loyal until death, or so it is said," Minerva's voice was brusque, and Albus nodded his head in acknowledgement about her valid concern. "He's not Instructor material. When he was a student here at Hogwarts, he was well known for not getting along with his fellow students."_

_"James Potter broke his arm," Filius interrupted. "Far be it from me to speak ill of anyone, but Potter did break the boy's arm. Let us also not forget that Sirius Black recklessly tried to set up a face to face meeting with Remus Lupin during the full moon. No one is entirely blame free, Minerva. The boys hated each other... and acted like children."_

_"Potions? You might as well let the boy teach Defense against the Dark Arts!" snapped Minerva._

_"In fact, Severus did volunteer for that position, didn't you, Severus?" Albus prompted._

_"Yes, I did..." Severus paused, trying not to call Dumbledore Master as that term angered Dumbledore. He tried not to flinch when the Deputy Headmistress tsk'd tsk'd loudly._

_"While Severus thought it be useful to have an instructor that had first hand experience with regards to the Dark Arts, I thought it was a very bad idea. Why, Severus?"_

_"Because I am a Death Eater," Severus responded._

_"You'll be a Hogwarts Instructor before this day is over if Dumbledore has his way. Now, boy, look at me. Don't stare at the floor." Filius ordered. "Albus, if I agree to this insanity, heed my words. Burn his clothes, every last stitch. Then... break his wand and burn it. We need to cauterize the infection cleanly."_

_No wand? No wand? He tried not to panic but he looked toward the Head Master for guidance. How could he spy for Dumbledore if he had no wand?_

_"Agreed," Dumbledore decided. "Severus, I will break and burn your wand when this meeting is over. As Potions Master, you don't really have use for a wand. Do you feel the need to protest my decision?"_

_YES, he screamed silently. What will I do for protection? Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling and Severus knew that the damnable man was testing him. This would be the first of many tests which he'd have to endure. But having no real choice in the matter, he nodded his head in agreement._

_"Amazing! This is a remarkable feat," Flitwick dryly remarked. "He looks to you for guidance and direction, Albus. Our formerly explosive student now curbs his tongue. How have you managed to tame a Death Eater, Albus?"_

_"With soft words, a gentle touch and plenty of Sherbet Lemons," Albus admitted. "I'm afraid that his teeth will rot from all the sweets. Do you believe that he's Tame enough to instruct?"_

_Pomona Sprout laughed out loud, and Filius leaned toward Severus. He put his small hands on Snape's face and forced him to look into his eyes._

_"You have done horrible, horrible things, Severus Snape. Does your conscience rest easy? Do you wake screaming from your night terrors, Severus? Do your dead haunt you?"_

_"Yes, my dreams are haunted by what I have done." He confessed that slowly, and Filius nodded his head. "I hear my dead scream out for vengeance. They call me by my name, demanding retribution for what I have done."_

_"I can not easily sleep either as my own past still affects me," the small Charms Instructor admitted. "I let you have an old dueling wand of mine after your mishap, Severus. In fact, I allowed you to keep it even after you graduated, as a token of my respect and my hopes for you. Yet some time ago, you returned it to me. Why?"_

_"I felt it improper to use your wand as I had repudiated everything you had tried to teach me." Severus admitted._

_"That you did, boy, and then some," Flitwick agreed. He stared for a long while into Snape's dark eyes, saw something of which he approved before he turned toward Albus Dumbledore and nodded his head. "Your Tame Death Eater can teach here, Albus. In time, you can decide if I can give him his old wand back. Welcome to the Hogwarts' staff, Professor Severus Snape."_

_"That's most generous of you, Filius." Albus acknowledged. "Minerva… it's time for you to make your choice known."_

"_You're putting him in charge of Slytherin House, Albus. All of _**_those_**_students under the sway of a Death Eater, are you mad?"_

_"That's a very good question, Minerva. Severus, answer Minerva."_

_"He believes that I may prove a useful warning to the Slytherin students. Also… the Head Master believes that I could learn…much needed humility… by being Head of Slytherin."_

_Flitwick and Sprout shared a laugh at that thought. He tried not to flinch when he realized that the two House heads were laughing at him, but he failed to prevent it. The Veritaserum, he was rapidly realizing, had not only prevented him from telling lies, but it had utterly destroyed his emotional control._

_Was this the first lesson? Fear? Humiliation? Hadn't he learned that lesson frequently at the hands of the McGonagall's Young Lion Cubs? Albus noticed his unease, and the older mage stroked his shoulder gently, quietly comforting him. To his complete shame, the Charms instructor being sharp eyed, as well as possessing a gentle soul, also noticed his panic._

_"What has been done to this boy, Albus? Have we turned to the techniques that He That Shall Not Be Named uses with such delight?"_

_"Legilimency, Filius. I examined the boy, Filius. It was difficult for us both, as he feared to reveal the true reason why he decided to return here. In the process of convincing myself of his trustworthiness, I have stirred old memories to the surface, not all of them pleasant… alas…" Albus explained. "Filius, if Severus is accepted as our new Potions Master, I would ask your permission to have Severus stay in your quarters until Professor Slughorn has vacated his chambers. He will need peace and time to reflect. You will not press him for information, Filius."_

_"Absolutely," Filius agreed._

_"You're giving him to Flitwick?" Minerva questioned. "I don't believe that the boy's completely sane. Is it **safe**?"_

_"I can handle him, Minerva." The Charms Instructor's was steely as he disagreed with Minerva. Flitwick seemed far greater and more forceful than Snape had ever seen him before. The easy going instructor had disappeared, and in his place, stood the man who had won dozens of dueling titles. "Believe me; I can handle Severus Tobias Snape. Do not confuse my small stature and tolerant nature for weakness, Minerva. Others have made that mistake and have **not **lived to repeat it."_

_Snape pulled away from Dumbledore, terrified. These people were on the side of Good? Give them hoods, give them masks… they could be foremost among the Dark Lord's supporters._

_"Filius, I did not mean to infer that you couldn't handle him," Minerva acquiesced. "I hold you and your ability in very high regard."  
_

_A small hand grasped his shoulder. It was Flitwick, and he tried not to shake._

_"Look at me, lad. I will take you into my chambers, and you will find what peace you can there. You need not fear me because of what you've done. There is good reason why Albus has sent you on to me."_

_"I'm still not convinced of Severus' sincerity. How did you manage to convince Albus to trust you, Snape?" Minerva snapped._

_"I expressed remorse for what I have done," he stated. It was the simple truth, and with the Veritaserum burning in his blood, it took every ounce of self-control to refrain from elaborating further._

_"Remorse for the past? Anything else, boy?"_

_He was biting back his tongue, trying not to say the words… but he couldn't stop them. The damnable potion was making him answer._

_"I was… terrified… of what I might have to do next… I could not do it…The Dark Lord wanted…something accomplished…He wanted to teach someone a lesson…"_

_"Who?" Minerva questioned._

_Snape turned to Albus, grabbed the edge of his robe, and kissed it, silently pleading for help. The words were coming to his mouth and he couldn't stop them._

_"Someone he viewed as an upstart…Master… Head Master…__please__… " He whispered, pleading for Albus to intercede. "Master…Must __they__ know? "_

_Master, why must you __shame__ her?_

_"Why was this person so special? That you turned your back on your comrades, Snape? I'm asking you… who is this person?" Minerva asked. "Stop evading the questions. You __will__ answer me."_

_He was opening his mouth to answer those questions, when Albus intervened._

_"I'm ordering you to not answer, Severus. Minerva, I refuse to let him answer those questions. The reason why he has decided to walk this particular path has been explained to me, after great pain on his part. I find his reason quite… astonishing, and yet completely understandable. And only because of his great difficulty in revealing the truth to me did he convince me of sincerity. I know Severus Snape well, and I comprehend what it has cost himself to reveal it to me."_

_"Master… thank you, Master." He whispered. "Thank you for your understanding. Your servant is most grateful…"_

_"He calls you __Master__, Albus?" Pomona Sprout questioned. Her voice conveyed her uneasiness. "You have stirred up powerful memories indeed if Snape calls you that. I do not approve, Albus."_

_"The pup is still being house trained, Pomona. He sometimes slips back into old habits, and I need to gently correct him. The proper term is Head Master, Severus. Please try to remember that. Now, Minerva, I am trying to teach him a very important lesson. That he can trust other people, and other people will in turn, trust him. Once again, Minerva. How do you vote?"_

_McGonagall looked Dumbledore in his eyes and asked, "Do you _**_really_**_trust him, Albus?"_

_"Yes," Albus assured her. "I trust him with my life, Minerva."_

_"Then welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Severus Snape."_

_Sprout kissed him on both cheeks in greeting, McGonagall refused to unbend long enough to do that and Flitwick welcomed him with a hearty handshake. The three House Heads left in mass and Albus Dumbledore collapsed into his chair before the Head Master delightedly laughed. Even Fawkes chirruped cheerfully as he flew about the room._

_"That went far better than I expected, young Severus. One might fear to presume that the House Heads are becoming malleable in their dotages. Sherbet lemon?"_

_He refused the proffered treat. After all, he didn't wish for his teeth to rot._

_"Master… I do not understand…"_

_"No, Severus, you do not comprehend what just happened. But in time, I'm sure you will. It was rather remarkable."_

As the door to Flitwick's chambers opened, Severus Snape shook his head. _It's been sixteen years, Albus. I still don't understand._****


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:**_ This story will really focus on the three professors. Not so much on The Boy That Lived, The Red Headed Boy in his Maroon Sweater & The Girl That Knows It all.

* * *

As the portrait swung open, the Potions Master of Hogwarts entered the room. Severus Snape looked his usual cool, aloof self, but Filius recognized from various minute yet telltale magical disturbances that the boy had gone to the considerable trouble of creating a powerful Glamour. As always the Ravenclaw House Head put two and two together to produce a far greater sum.

"Minerva, the boy's been_Cruciated _tonight. Multiple times; if I'm guessing correctly. Quickly now, Minerva, get some chocolate for the boy," he whispered, not wanting Snape to overhear. In a louder voice, he heartedly greeted Snape.

"Severus, welcome. Please take a seat and let me pour you some punch."

Snape nodded his head in acknowledgement of the greeting, dutifully presented Filius with a potion for his legendary lumbago, and the Potions Master walked… no he _limped_ toward the heavy chair. The Slytherin stopped before it, gave it a look full of disgust complete with the obligatory arched eyebrow before he turned to face Minerva.

"Your chambers haven't changed much since I was last here, Filius," drawled Snape. "But this chair, while new, is a little too ostentatious for one of your sophisticated taste. Therefore, I must thank Professor McGonagall for it. Filius, I am grateful to you for the cushion."

At least Minerva had the good graces to look embarrassed that Severus had caught her being snarky. She waved her wand, and the chair turned into another soft, comfortable couch with copious amounts of green pillows and a silver throw.

"Take the Glamour off, Severus," Filius prompted as he handed Severus a cup of punch. "You're among people you can trust."

"That obvious?" Snape asked. His low voice seemed slower than his norm.

"Among those that know you as well as I do, yes," Filius admitted. "You don't have the energy to keep your Glamour up for long, so just take it down, Snape."

"Damn the sharp eyes of Ravenclaw," Snape growled. His voice lacked his normal acidity, as though he was just pretending to be annoyed, or he was far too exhausted to even summon the needed energy to be irritated.

"Damn the Secretive Slytherin who thinks he can evade notice by his friends by being sly," Filius retorted before laughing, as this was a familiar exchange between the two of them, and he motioned for the Slytherin to sit down.

Perhaps what happened next was Snape sitting down, but it was more of a physical collapse, causing punch, lumbago potion and chocolate to almost land on top of the Potions Master. With some quick wand work, Flitwick had the various items floating in the air, even as he grabbed Snape's head and pulled it toward his face.

"Your scleras are bloody," hissed Flitwick. "Were you _Cruciated_ tonight? Don't deny it, you're showing all the symptoms. Bilateral subconjunctival hemorrhages, you're in obvious physical pain and weaker than a first year. Glamouring? Who are you trying to impress? Why the bloody hell did you do a Glamour for, lad?"

Severus growled in real annoyance when Flitwick called him, "lad".

While Flitwick technically wasn't a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he was quite familiar with Snape's role as a triple agent, and why Snape had most likely been _Cruciated_. The two men had developed a strange bond as Albus had highly encouraged the much older Flitwick to mentor the young man through Snape's first few years of teaching at Hogwarts. Snape had a twisted relationship with Albus. He loved, trusted, worshipped and feared the older man as an authority figure but the easy going, diminutive Charms Instructor was quite likely Snape's only friend at Hogwarts.

"I had a bloody meeting to attend. Called by one Filius Flitwick, and one for which I'm several hours late because I had another meeting by one very Pissed off Dark Lord… I didn't think I'd ever make _this_ meeting if Umbridge took one look at me and realized that I'd been _Cruciated_."

Snape opened his mouth to roar some more, and Minerva popped a large piece of chocolate into his mouth.

"Eat," she regally demanded. "Then drink. I'll get you real food after you finished the chocolate."

* * *

He ate enough chocolate to have all his little Slytherins in a veritable frenzy from a sugar overdose before Minerva would allow him to drink. The chocolate had worked its magic and revived him to half way human status. The warmth had spread through out his body even to his toes and fingers, replacing the bitter chill of being cursed. Severus would have been quite happy just to fall asleep on the couch. Naturally, due to his luck, it was not to be.

"Your color is better. Your eyes still look like you've been on a pub crawl of legendary proportions," she snapped.

He could hear the concern for him in the witch's voice, and therefore a truthfully, very touched Snape acknowledged it the only way he knew how.

"Trust a Scot to know," he retorted.

She glared at him, her eyebrow arched in the distinctive manner that said he had pushed her buttons. And Point for Severus, he cheerily thought as he marked his mental chalkboard.

"Drink your punch," she ordered, regal as Elizabeth, Queen of the Muggles.

Severus managed a gulp and then he nearly spit it up in record time. _Punch_? It was more like a kick to the groin by an angry mule.

"Bloody, bloody hell. What the hell is in this?" He spat. "You don't usually serve _this_."

"Pomona's Punch. It's the Fat Friar's personal recipe. He's been working on it for the last thousand years or so," Filius explained. "Since this is an unplanned meeting, Pomona makes her punch for us. Drink up! We've got plenty as these meetings are usually long."

Bloody hell.

The two senior House Heads had tricked him.

Being the youngest and newest of the House Heads, Severus had often found himself the brunt of various distinctively odd customs. Sometimes he had been warned about them in advance, more often that not, it was gentle, kind-hearted Filius Flitwick, universally proclaimed and admired as the most honest and sincere person currently at Hogwarts, be it alive, dead or in the half-way state combining both, who scammed him by announcing in mid-meeting about some obscure custom that required Severus' immediate attention. By all rights, he should be royally pissed at how easily Flitwick conned him, but Snape couldn't do much more than half-heartedly growl at the Charms Instructor, not when Flitwick wore such a delighted grin at catching him. Plus unlike Gryffindor's young lion cubs, Flitwick's jokes did him no physical harm, and Flitwick was the first to laugh when the gags were on him.

The first _official_ meeting of the House Heads had found him juggling his lumbago potion for Flitwick, a complicated botanical potion for Pomona and Merlin save him from the embarrassment, a tincture of potent catnip for Minerva. That had been Dumbledore's hoax, as Albus had pulled him into his office for a brief meeting to find out how he was settling in as a Professor, and by the way, did he realize that as the newest House Head, he was required to bring potions to the next meeting for all the House Heads so they could sample his skill?

The lumbago potion for Felix had been easy. Pomona's Plant potion had required a bit more thought but Minerva? He had been in an internal state of near panic because he couldn't think of what potion she'd want and he had less than two hours to prepare it. The intoxicating tincture of catnip had been a moment of supreme desperation, as it combined alcohol and catnip. She was a bloody Scottish animagus, so drinking catnip infused liquor hadn't seemed _that_ farfetched an idea.

While not a farfetched idea, it hadn't been one of his better ones; Minerva had been hung over for almost a full week at the start of the term, as she had heartily imbibed the brew. No hang over potion known to magic kind had been able to alleviate her discomfort, and Merlin knew he had been busy inventing a few new ones during that week. Snape would admit to no one that one of the scariest experiences of his life was when Minerva had caught him in a dark corridor late one night to warn him to never to brew "That poison" again.

"Keep drinking, lad. You'll need a belly full of Dutch courage by the time we get you up to speed," Flitwick advised.

As Flitwick began to explain about his dark fears of Umbridge and what she was planning on doing, Severus Snape took another sip of Pomona's potent punch. He was so stunned by the fact that Filius Flitwick was proposing a full scale rebellion that he didn't even choke on the liquor. No, this time the punch went down so nice and smooth that he quickly drained the cup. Without even noticing that the cup was refilling itself, he drank another cup.

Bloody hell, the Dark Lord and Filius Flitwick both wanted to sow chaos at Hogwarts. How the hell was he supposed to juggle everything and stay alive?

But this little misadventure proved one thing that Severus Snape had long suspected; Filius Flitwick was a closet anarchist.

* * *

To Minerva's surprise, the Potions Master seemed somewhat amused by their decision to quietly challenge Umbridge at every chance. Then again, his less than dour demeanor might be related to the fact that the boy was on his third cup of punch in twenty minutes.

_Careful, Severus. One Cup, Two Cups, Three Cups, FLOOR._

"The idea is that the three of us will do what we can to negate her influence as much as possible," Flitwick stated. "We have to protect the students. Are you agreed?"

"Yes," Severus agreed.

"Pomona will be here shortly, so we can discuss it further," Minerva explained.

Severus laughed. The chuckling was an odd sound from the Potions Master, and so both she and Flitwick turned to look at Snape.

"I've always thought that this school was always one step away from complete and utter chaos. If the student body really wanted to, they'd have all the professors locked away in our chambers, begging for their mercy. Are you really sure you want to unleash _that_?" Severus questioned.

"The Ministry doesn't want the students learning defensive spells," Minerva explained. "They're learning THEORY, Severus. When the fight comes, they'll be slaughtered."

"I know. It's just the thought of completely unleashing the Weasley Twins… is there anyway you could possibly maintain some control over them? One assumes that we _do_ want the castle standing after Umbridge is gone," Snape drawled.

He took another swallow of the punch, no doubt enjoying the warm, mellow feeling it produced and shook his head. "This isn't that bad actually."

* * *

Pomona was late; the punch was flowing freely, so by the time they held their meeting, everyone… well… Flitwick, Severus and she were distinctively pissed. Ok… maybe paralytic was closer to the truth, but Severus was making dry quips, Flitwick was in tears from laughing so hard, and she was giggling herself. Her laughter made the normally reticent but thoroughly plastered Severus Snape gregarious and soon she too was crying from laughing too hard. His dry impersonation of one of his less than stellar students blowing up his cauldron and destroying half the potions lab had her holding onto the couch to support her.

Pomona, being the lone sober adult in the group, naturally decided to close the bar the minute she walked into Flitwick's chambers and found the group doing an impromptu version of the unbearable and interminable school song. It didn't work, as Severus almost immediately began pouring that damnable tincture of catnip he had made for her into her cup. To be honest, Minerva DID ask him if he had any on him; Minerva just hadn't expected him to be able to produce some on demand. Snape sloshed it a bit while he poured, but Flitwick was so busy pouring some dark liquor into Severus' own glass that he didn't notice the mess.

Before long, Pomona had given up on her futile attempts at sobering the delinquents. In fact, Minerva would have sworn an oath, except for the fact that she was drinking Snape's extraordinary catnip liquor that did such strange things to her head, that Pomona was busy refilling Flitwick's cup whenever the diminutive Charms Master's back was turned.

"So, I'll talk to the portraits," Flitwick announced. "Severus… you talk to the Ghost Council."

"I'll ask the Bloody Barron to have Peeves report to you, Minerva," Snape decided. His face quirked into what some could construe as a slight smile before returning to his normal serious mien. "I'm sure you can keep the Weasley twins and Peeves under control. I have the utmost faith in Gryffindor House."

The Slytherin raised his glass to her in a sardonic salute, drank the contents in one fell swoop, and softly laughed. Flitwick gestured and Severus' glass refilled without the Potions Master being none the wiser.

"Anything from my greenhouses is yours," Pomona offered. "But you three will be leading this charge. I'll remain in the background. I wish I could stand with you on this… but someone must be here just in case. But know I support you completely."

"This calls for a toast," Flitwick announced. He gestured with his wand and a tray bearing four shot glasses and a sapphire colored bottle of liquid appeared. The Ravenclaw Head poured the liquor and handed the cups to each instructor.

"To the unholy trinity," the Slytherin toasted, his glass raised.

"The unholy Triumvirate is more like it!" Flitwick squeaked as he raised his own cup.

"The unholy threesome…" Minerva toasted.

"To Hogwarts, Albus and to the pithing of a Toad!" Pomona cheered.

They clicked their cups together, spilling not a drop. Then they quickly quaffed their drinks, and Flitwick refilled their glasses once more with Pomona refusing, claiming that at least _one_ of the House Heads needed to be sober.

"We should meet again, and soon," Pomona prompted. "Monday night?"

"The dungeon?" Minerva suggested. "She doesn't like it down there. Claims it's musty. Can you handle the dampness, Flitwick?"

The Charms Master said that he'd be fine even as Severus protested in vain that his dungeon wasn't damp and it certainly wasn't musty. They agreed on a time, and then Pomona left after hugging and kissing Minerva. The Herbology instructor stopped to talk to Rowena on the portrait covering the exit, and the two women had a long, quiet chat before Pomona exited.

The three remaining instructors shared a long companionable silence with yet still more liquor involved before the nowhere near as sharp as he normally was Flitwick noticed Rowena Ravenclaw had abandoned her portrait for places unknown.

"Does anyone know where Rowena Ravenclaw is? She's not on the portrait which means you can't leave the room."

Oh Merlin's dirty knickers, they were trapped in Filius' chambers. Flooing back to their quarters was out of the question, as Umbridge was rumored to have the Floos under monitor.

_Professor… why did you Floo back to your quarters at one in the morning?_

_Because Rowena Ravenclaw thought I was too drunk to be let loose in the corridors at night. Damnable woman always did have an exaggerated expectation of what was proper behavior for Hogwarts Instructors._

"It appears that Pomona and Ravena have decided that you two need to sober up before you leave the room," giggled Flitwick.

"And all this time I thought Helga Hufflepuff was the motherly one," snarked Severus.

* * *

Snape was dozing in a blissful, drowsy state of warm contentedness when Minerva woke him by imperiously tapped him on the shoulder. She put her finger over his lips so he wouldn't complain before she leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Filius is almost sleeping. Can you pick him up and put him to bed? He'll never be able to walk tomorrow if he sleeps in the chair. Honestly, I believe that I'm too drunk to use my wand."

He must be dreaming, as there was no way the Bastion of Values at Hogwarts would be so utterly pissing drunk that she was worried about using her wand.

"Warn Rowena what we're doing. I don't want his eagle coming after me," he whispered in return.

"Done."

He nodded his acceptance. The Potions Master tried to be careful and quiet, but with Minerva's drunken hindrance…help… Snape, in next to no time, was carrying the Charms instructor from his chair to his bed, with the deliberate, careful actions of one trying to prove that he wasn't as drunk as he truly was. When he entered Filius' large and airy bed chamber, Flitwick's Golden Eagle reproachfully glared at him, blaming him for her Master's unconsciousness state until Flitwick murmured a sleepy comment.

'I've had Rowena for a long time," Filius explained groggily and a tad bit unnecessarily. "She's a bit protective."

"No harm done," Minerva commented as she turned down the wizard's bed, even while Severus arched his eyebrow at her.

Easy for the witch to say, Rowena would have gone after _HIM_, not HER. Naturally, Minerva ignored his silent reproach.

Carefully, he put the Charms Master down on the edge of the bed so he was sitting. Minerva knelt before him, and helped Flitwick take off his shoes and jacket. After he was unvested of his jacket and shoes, Minerva helped tuck him into bed.

"Good night, Filius," Minerva whispered. She leaned over and kissed him on his cheek. The Charms Master smiled and whispered something in her ear. The witch murmured something in return and then squeezed Flitwick's small hand.

Minerva chuckled even as she stood up. The witch then evilly smiled when she saw the look on his face.

"Don't tell me, Filius was whispering sweet nothings?" Snape dryly questioned.

"No…" she softly laughed and shook her head. Motioning for him to join her, she left Filius' bedroom with a highly exaggerated attempt at walking quietly and then softly closed the door.

Her amusement was making him a tad bit jealous, so naturally, Severus had to find out what Filius had said to have Minerva McGonagall grinning like a cat presented with a vat full of cream and a bucket of catnip. Yes, he didn't have a chance in hell with Minerva… but he still wanted to know.

"Let me guess… our dear Charms Instructor Filius was… _propositioning_… you."

Now that the door was closed, Minerva broke out into laughter. He must have stared at her like a pole axed first year face to face with an angry Albus Dumbledore, when she conspiratorially whispered in his ear, "No, lad, that _particular_ fire has been out for a long time now."

That tidbit shocked him. It really did. The very idea of the diminutive Flitwick and statuesque Minerva… _Shagging!_

He knew about Dumbledore and McGonagall, a brief and thankfully extremely discreet flowering of affection that had lasted for several terms. Albus had discussed the situation with him before his and Minerva's relationship had turned serious, not wishing to cause him emotional distress when the news of their affair broke. How could he protest it? Snape had brusquely reminded Albus that he had no claim to Minerva. But Albus had again asked him for his sanction before proceeding further, and Severus had given it, requesting only that Albus not flaunt his relationship with Minerva in front of him.

Best left unmentioned to all concerned was his warning to Albus that he'd _kill_ the man if he hurt Minerva.

Severus had been truly delighted that the liaison had done them both good. His Master had smiled more and Minerva's eyes had sparkled.

If Albus's liaison with Minerva gave them both joy; how could he not approve?

But _FLITWICK_?!?!?!

Who else had been lucky enough to dally with Minerva?

Kettleburn – before or after his loss of limb?

Binns?

Moody?

The damnable Lupin?

Dear Merlin… no… _not_… Hagrid. He refused to even think about Hagrid and Minerva… though he did witness Hagrid plastering a kiss on Minerva during one Christmas break. Minerva had blushed but she also had _not_ hexed Hagrid into the next century.

"It was fun while it lasted though," Minerva admitted. "He's brilliant, Severus. Plus you know what they say; it's not the size of the wizard's wand…"

He wouldn't finish the quip… but his drunken mind helpfully added, "_But the way the way the wizard flicks it…"_

The Transfiguration Master then leaned against the wall, and rubbed her head.

"Dear Merlin, help me. I'm leading a rebellion against the Ministry of Magic and I can't believe I drank your poison brew… _willingly_. Now I'm telling you about my old flames. Merlin's bloody beard! How drunk _am_ I?" Minerva whispered that, before she unsteadily pointed to her left. "Filius actually said there's a bedroom down the hallway and reminded me not to attempt to resize the couches as he worries that I'm too intoxicated to do so."

Severus had to agree that Flitwick was correct about Minerva's lack of sobriety. Minerva had been imbibing Pomona's Punch before he arrived, and after his arrival, she had matched him drink for drink. Truthfully, he was quite impressed that she was still upright, as he never would have thought the witch possessed the capacity. Accuracy demanded that Snape admit that the witch was leaning, but since he was at a distinct tilt also, Minerva looked like she was standing upright.

It was just the hallway that was at the odd angle.

While he was trying to figure out if that deeply profound thought even made sense, his subconscious decided to remind him about the really important issues.

Bedroom… not bedrooms.

Damn it to hell, Flitwick must have charmed the space from his third bedroom into his personal library. Snape hurt like he'd been bludgeoned, and it would be a long night on a couch too short for him to stretch his long legs. Tomorrow, he'd be lucky to be able to crawl to his chambers.

_Mental note to self. Next time I have an all night drinking session… err… sorry… an unscheduled meeting of the House Heads after being cursed repeatedly by the Dark Lord, I will remember to bring enough sober 'em up potions, anti-hangover potions and pain relief potions for everyone._

_Or at least… ENOUGH FOR ME. _

"I'll take the couch," he stated even as Minerva decided the same thing.

"You look like hell, Severus," Minerva explained.

Gryffindor was always the speaker of the Painfully Obvious.

"I'm perfectly fine."

He put his foot down, in fact, both his feet down. Because he was Slytherin, he was stubborn and insistent combined with a gallant nature. No, he was not chauvinistic as the witch loudly declared him to be. His steadfast refusal to let the older Minerva sleep on the couch ensured that Slytherin House rather than Gryffindor reigned triumphant in the battle of _Which Potted Professor got Stuck on the Couch that was Too Short on Which to Sleep Unless You were FlitwickSized._

McGonagall and he would share the emperor sized bed.

Nothing would take place as they both vowed that they were both too bloody potted to do anything.

He was _such_ a liar.

Nothing would occur, as he knew what the fallout would be on the morning after. Minerva would be horrified, and their tentative amity would be shattered beyond repair.

Tonight, he had caused her to laugh several times. How could he even think to ruin those happy moments?

But they'd go to bed only after they ensured the safety of their fellow House Heads by drinking every ounce of liquor left on the table. His tired mind timorously suggested that perhaps that idea wasn't quite the noble proposal the two drunks thought it was. In fact, his subconscious prompted, the idea was probably pretty damn reckless.

Damn shame he didn't listen to that still, quiet voice.

* * *

Severus Snape gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, and he stared at his shoes as though he had never seen them before. Actually, Minerva thought, perhaps the boy was trying to figure out the best way to remove them that didn't involve him falling out of the bed and landing on his distinctive nose.

By Godric Gryffindor's bloody sword, she needed to stop treating the boy like he was a student. He was a professor at Hogwarts. An ill-mannered, more than a bit of a grouch, but _still_… a professor. She firmly vowed to do that, first thing after she woke, but for now, she was knelt before him and removed his shoes.

He had been cursed, after all, and his joints had begun to stiffen. The Slytherin's black shoes removed, she assisted him out of his long black jacket, leaving him clad only in his dark pants and white shirt. The witch carefully removed his black cravat from the Slytherin's neck. His clothes were neatly folded and placed on a chair. She then sat on the bed next to the dark haired wizard, the mattress shifting slightly under their combined weights.

"Thank you," Severus whispered. "I don't think I could have handled that with any sort of grace."

"Thanks for putting Filius to bed. I could not have lifted him," Minerva softly admitted. "Also… thank you for showing up tonight. Filius said you would, but I must confess that I had my doubts."

"I promised you that I'd attend," was all he said, but Minerva felt him emotionally withdraw from her.

Damn it, she cursed herself. Tonight, he actually unbent long enough for her to see a different side of him, and now he's retreating behind his iron walls. Being Gryffindor down to her toes, she gathered her gumption and kissed Severus on the cheek. Hopefully,he'd accept it for the apology it was meant to be.

The boy physically recoiled and seemed startled, as he put his hand to cheek. His astonishment was too tempting an opportunity to miss heaping additional amazement on the lad, so she hastily kissed him on his other cheek. Quick witted Severus Snape, the man with a caustic wit quicker than Flitwick's wand was _absolutely_ thunderstruck.

And two points to Gryffindor, she thought merrily. Then because she was too loaded to even think about a strategic retreat Minerva decided to completely win the war.

"Good night, Severus. Would you like me to tuck you into bed?"

As the witch has assumed correctly, the Slytherin wizard haughtily refused to be tucked into bed like a little homesick Hufflepuff first year. Even as he was snarkily protesting, Minerva tried not to smile. The witch had noticed that the boy was truly exhausted, as his scathing tirade didn't have its usual strength, acidity and volume. Yes, the boy was putting on quite the performance.

_Is this the Severus Snape that Flitwick knows? _

"Pivot," she brusquely ordered, as she picked up his long legs. It took some time, assorted muffled curses from Severus, who apparently retained enough fear of his former professor so as not to want to openly swear in front of her but before long the boy was resting on his side in the bed, and yes, she tucked him in.

"Minerva…." The boy's voice was soft, and she leaned over to hear him. "I'm… tired… far more tired and considerably drunker than I realized… I want to warn you that I might…not be able to keep my wards up."

It took her a little bit for her to comprehend what he was trying to say. Compassion filled her, and she gently stroked his cheek.

"I know you have nightmares, lad. You're not the first man with whom I've shared a bed. And yes, a few of them had night terrors. One of them could only sleep if he warded the room and kept a lamp lit." She didn't mention who it was, though Severus knew him.

"Flitwick…" Severus whispered. "He warned me when I stayed with him. He's a… _good_ man…"

The Slytherin softly stressed the word as though he believed that she'd disagreed.

_Albus, all those years ago, I thought you were quite utterly mad, placing your barely tamed Death Eater under mild Filius' care.__ Severus saw you as his Master then, and was far too willing to accept the rule of servant. We argued about your decision, as I believed Severus was emotionally damaged and too mentally unstable for Filius to handle._

_You informed me that the smartest way to handle Severus then was to give his supervision over to Filius, a man who had experienced his own traumas, survived and who refused to be any man's Master or Servant. I don't know what the hell happened between those two, but your unorthodox arrangement seems to have worked. The boy has more than a modicum of respect for Filius, and Filius is the only one that will willingly converse with the boy even when Snape is in the darkest of moods._

"That he is, lad, one of the best," agreed Minerva. "I'm sure Flitwick has his Dream Catcher wards enabled in this room. You should be able to sleep without any bad dreams. Pleasant dreams, Severus."

The boy didn't answer her; his soft slow breathing implied he was close to slumber. The witch sighed quietly as she walked to her side of the bed. There was a mirror next to the bed, so she concentrated on her reflection intently, trying to change her clothes into something a little more comfortable for sleeping. It took a few minutes, a few assorted curses, but soon she was wearing a long silky shirt and pants. She hadn't done too badly, considering she was SWSI, spellcasting while severely intoxicated; though it didn't look like she was wearing the McGonagall plaid. No... it was more... a mixture of colors that made her stomach queasy and her head hurt.

Or... maybe that was Severus' damnable catnip liquor.

What an evil, twisted mind the lad possessed to create that combination.

Minerva knew that she shouldn't have threatened him that one night, but she had been in a world of hurt because of him. Ok, she had been in a world of hurt because she had overindulged.

Finally she collapsed into the bed, her back firmly facing Severus' back with a thoroughly respectable, complete chaste distance between them. That was the last thing she remembered.

* * *

When Minerva woke up, she didn't remember where she was and how she had gotten there. Her head was pounding, and there was someone curled up next to her. Whomever it was, had one arm around her middle and he... she... it... them... was breathing softly in her ears.

Having experienced one too many one night stands as the results of drinking a wee bit too much, Minerva immediately checked her ring fingers. No wedding ring. It had happened once, though Mad Eye was being a daft prat when he had conjured one. She had nearly murdered him when he revealed that they hadn't gotten married, just totally blitzed and had spent a lovely night together.

Definitely wasn't Mad Eye next to her. Mad Eye never slept when anyone shared his bed, and his arm wouldn't be around her. That arm would be cradling his staff, ready to defend them… Constant Vigilance was his motto, though Near Constant Shagging was pretty damn close.

She was clothed... another good sign. The arm holding her was wearing a full length white sleeve, so... perhaps this wasn't an experience that she'd need to tame in order to tell her Students "Why Witches and Wizards Shouldn't Drink to Excess". Minerva had told many a student body about her various encounters over the years and nobody would ever believe it was all first hand experience of the Not So Prim Deputy Headmistress Suitably Tamed Down for Underage Witches and Wizards.

Now. The question was... who owned the arm and the white shirt?

Could it be an old flame?

No. Flitwick wouldn't be curled up like this as he wasn't a snuggler. Yes, the limb was most assuredly NOT Filius'; because of his personal traumas of which he rarely spoke, Flitwick needed to be free from confinement when he slept, so he never cuddled. Plus the arm was far too long for Filius.

Remus would be sleeping on the floor, as he was a gentleman.

Well, except in bed.

But yes, if it was Remus, he would have seduced her, held and cuddled her until she slumbered, and then he would have slept on the floor, curled up at the front of the bed. Remus claimed he was a bit of a thrasher when he slept, and he was fearful of hurting her accidentally. The truth was that he had his own nightmares, and sometimes the dear boy whimpered and whined in his sleep like an injured pup. Minerva always cheerily assured Lupin on his bad nights that she had slept the night through and hadn't been disturbed. After all, they shagged a dozen or so good times thanks to his werewolf stamina, so the boy was heartbreakingly willing to pretend that it was quite possible that she was exhausted enough not to hear him.

And if it had been Remus Lupin, she'd be sleeping on the floor next to him, ready to gently console him during his bad dreams.

Hooch would have hogged the covers. No, this person shared, and she was pretty sure the arm was masculine.

Not Albus, as he took over the entire bed with his arms and legs sprawled just so which had been the absolute final straw in their relationship. Plus he had a slight snore, and she believed that this gentleman was clean shaved. No tickling of her ears from facial hairs.

So that knocked Hagrid out of the equation.

Thank Merlin!

Her mind continued prompting her with assorted names, and she went through the list.

Nope, certainly wasn't Umbridge as she didn't smell Eau de Toad.

Oh, Merlin's beard tied in knots and braided with multi colored ribbons, IT couldn't BE _FILCH_!???!?!?!

No. She didn't detect Mrs. Norris anywhere. By Morgan le Fay's black underwire bra, what type of man named his cat after the only woman he had ever shagged?

Vainly, she tried to remember who the other person in her bed might be. The dawn was breaking, so the room was gradually growing lighter. The room looked very familiar, another good sign that she hadn't picked up a complete stranger for a random lay. Flitwick, her mind prompted. She was in Flitwick's spare bedroom! That thought made her mentally cheer, until her aching head winced at the noise.

Filch wouldn't be allowed inside Flitwick's chambers. There was only a rarefied select few that ever made it past Rowena.

Most of the teachers, but not all. Pomfrey, yes…but for her to unbend enough to take a Friday night off?

Wait.

It was coming back to her. She and Filius had shared a bottle or three. Rowena had stormed off because she was a teetotaler and she refused to let the drunks out into the corridors where they might be seen by impressionable students. So the question remained who had she been drinking with?

Pomona. No... not Pomona's arm, plus the woman snored.

Drinking. Discussions on how to overthrow the Toad...Oh dear God... The name of the face attached to the white sleeved arm came back to her with a crack so loud; she was surprised it didn't wake up everyone in Hogwarts.

Severus Snape, former Death Eater, triple agent for the Order of the Phoenix, the man who had scared more first years into piddling on themselves than anyone else in the entire history of Hogwarts... was a _snuggler_!

And she knew damn well that he'd be horrified if that little tidbit was revealed. She must be still intoxicated, as Minerva McGonagall was tempted to laugh out loud at Severus Snape, Snuggle Bunny.

As though he heard her, Severus snuggled still closer to her, and he succeeded in pulling the covers over her.

And Minerva McGonagall wondered what trick she could pull on the Slytherin.

He'd be horrified when he woke and found himself in the arms of a GRYFFINDOR. This was a Hogwarts' Legend in the making, as Sprout and Hooch would love to hear all about the Slytherin's horror at the next Hogwarts Hens night. That is, if Severus didn't hex her into the next century.

* * *

Snape was dreaming, he knew that he was. There was a warm body next to his, and they were fitting together like a set of spoons. His hand was resting on something smooth and silky, and he could hear the soft sound of someone breathing. He cautiously opened his eyes, and realized that yes... there was someone in bed with him, and he wasn't sure who it was.

Where the bloody hell was he?

The room looked familiar, but not really.

It couldn't be a Dark Revel, as no woman willingly remained after all the festivities ended.

Well, except for Bellatrix Black Lestrange and he'd never bed _that_ crazy bitch.

The room was too far big to be in Knockturn Alley, plus he never fell asleep with one of the girls. Whoever his bed partner was, she possessed dark hair, and so he performed a quick non-vocalized spell for fresh breath as his teeth felt furrier than Hagrid's face. Plus he did a quick Down, Boy! Spell for his various parts that were enjoying being this close to a female who wasn't screaming, wailing, crying or cursing.

Time to face the music. Should he kiss her? Wasn't that what ordinary witches and wizards did? Perhaps he should find out with who he was in bed before he worried about the morning after niceties. Snape could sense that the female was awake, and no doubt she was twisting the screw ever so slightly by waiting for him to make the first move.

Bloody hell! What the hell should he do? Whoever it was, he had slept easily, free from the nightmares that normally plagued and disrupted his sleep. The woman hadn't moved his hand away from her... so that seemed to suggest that they were friendly and it had been a consensual decision to end up in bed together. But who the hell was she?

Hesitantly, he leaned toward her ear.

"Morning..." Snape whispered. "Sleep well?"

There were no words to adequately describe how he felt when Minerva McGonagall, the woman of his dreams, the female he had placed on a marble pedestal far, far, above him, turned to him, and sniffed, "Sleep? We didn't sleep a blasted wink last night, Severus Snape."

* * *

Fortunately after being a Professor for far too many years at a school for beginning Witches and Wizards, Minerva had learned how to hold back her laughter. Severus Snape was obviously confused at finding the Head of Gryffindor House in his bed, and his glittering black eyes were staring at her in what could only be complete befuddlement.

"Severus, you were... _incredible_..." She informed the lad, trying not gush too badly. When pulling a prank, you had to be careful NOT to go too far.

The Slytherin turned a whiter shade of pale; which Minerva dutifully noted for future retelling of this tale. The pallor of his skin horrifically clashed with his jet black hair.

"I've had other lovers, but I've never had anyone like you before. So skilled! So energetic... so... so... _insatiable_!"

"We..." Severus paused... and he gestured wildly with one hand.

The boy was staring at her like she was insane.

"Shagged? Had sex? Fucked? Made wild passionate love? Yes. Repeatedly. You don't... _remember_...?" Minerva deliberately let her voice get a little emotional. "You told me that you loved me. You said that our intimacy would be special for you... because it was… me... It _wasn't_?"

Severus Snape was so obviously at a lost for words that she nearly laughed.

"Severus... you were so incredible! I never would have guessed it. You're always so reserved, but you were a wild man last night."

He was blushing. Yes, Severus Snape, the greasy haired git was blushing!

Maybe she was daft, as this joke unexpectedly wasn't as funny as she had hoped it would be. No, Minerva had expected him to angry protest the very idea that he had shagged a woman old enough to be his mother. Instead the boy was blushing, and Severus appeared truly at a loss for words.

"You... I... were intimate and...you ... didn't... get... angry?" Snape whispered that so softly that she almost didn't hear him.

"No..." She assured him. "Severus, how can a woman possibly get angry at a man when he says that he loves her?"

Severus Snape was a very odd color, and he rubbed his head. The lad's head must be pounding if it felt anything like hers.

"I confessed how I felt... and... you weren't... _sickened_?"

Then to her horror, her brain snapped into gear, five minutes too late to prevent this entire situation from happening.

_YOU DOLT! HE THINKS YOU'RE SERIOUS! AND HE'S **NOT **PROTESTING!  
_  
Severus Snape deliberately... yet hesitantly kissed her on the mouth. It was a timid kiss, as though he expected her to push him away. She had snogged many a man and a few women in her time, and Minerva had never been kissed quite like this. It was the kiss of a young boy... all eagerness and fear... passion and inexperience.

When they broke apart, Snape was... oh dear Merlin no... no... the lad was looking at her so intently with his dark, black eyes. The shroud he used to hide the real Severus from her had disappeared, and the boy's heart was in his eyes.

_Snape's feelings for me were what he was hiding all this time? Oh sweet, sweet Merlin, I never knew. I never would have guessed that the boy fancied me. Merlin, he looks so young and scared. Filius? Is this who he really is? _

Having made one error, Minerva then proceeded to make another mistake. She laughed, not to hurt Severus, but to diffuse the situation, in the hopes of giving them both an easy escape from this embarrassing situation she had unwittingly created.

"Lad, you almost got me worried there," she shakily admitted. "But I know that you're just teasing me. You know full well that we _weren't_ intimate last night, and you did not express your undying love for a woman old enough to be your mother."

For the briefest moment, the boy… no… the Potions Master looked as though she had slapped him hard. Her heart shattered as Minerva realized that she had deeply humiliated Severus.

But the instant didn't last for long because he pointed his wand at her and whispered, "_Lacus Somniorum_."

The bastard had _hexed_ her.

The _BASTARD_ had turned his wand on _another_ instructor.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Disclaimer:_** Not my Characters. I just decided to play with them for a bit. I'd like to thank those that reviewed this so far. I'm actually always completely surprised when I get a review and I do a little Tok'Ra Symbiote Happy Dance when I get one. :)

This section is pretty much Severus and Flitwick. Minerva's still recovering.

* * *

Severus: 

Minerva McGonagall had found out his dirty little secret. She had ridiculed and mocked his crush, and he was surprised to realize that he held no ill feeling toward the witch. No, instead intense, bone crushing humiliation permeated every ounce of his being, yes, but no hatred. Far from it. How could he be angry at her? His iron control had slipped due to bloody Pomona's damnable punch.

All those years of self-control obliterated due to a single night of drunkenness.

Damn him for being a complete and utter fool. But he had been so bloody drunk that waking up with MINERVA MCGONAGALL in his bed hadn't set off any bells. Even after the witch had informed him how he had spilled his guts while under the influence and then shagged her non-stop through the night, the thought that Minerva was lying to him had never crossed his mind. No, he hadn't even been the slightest bit gobsmacked by that tasty tidbit, no, instead since he couldn't remember it, he had decided to snog Minerva!

Well, he was so drunk that he thought it could have happened. In wine, the truth was the old proverb.

After today, he had a new proverb, and he was getting it tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. That way it was the FIRST thing he saw when he woke up and the very last thing he saw before he collapsed into slumber.

_In Pomona's Punch, there was a strong chance for **eternal **humiliation._

Last night he had felt like he _belonged_ and that Severus Tobias Snape, the bastard, the black bat, the greasy git, Death Eater, had been truly accepted as a Hogwarts' instructor by someone besides Flitwick. They had come to _him_, asking for his assistance in harassing Umbridge.

Maybe that's what had lowered his guard.

After all those years of being on the outside, desperately peering in, wanting to be noticed and accepted by the inner cliché, he had at last been allowed into the fold. They had giggled and laughed, gossiped and slandered, and wonders of wonders, he had been included. Snape had recognized that he was drinking far too much last night, but he had been feeling so mellow, so content... so trusting. After having experienced first hand, assorted curses thrown by the Dark Lord in a fit of pique, Snape was shamed to admit that he had been craving companionship. Normally, there was the solid Flitwick, who was willing to be his sounding board.

But last night, Minerva McGonagall had been there... By Merlin's bloody hot pink with zebra stripes knickers; he had cocked it up good!

He had no head for alcohol. Snape knew that, and yet he had drunk entirely too much.

Tobias and Eileen both had problems with the demon liquor and so customarily he rarely drank more than a pint and that was at Albus' bloody Christmas party for the staff. On the rarest of occasions, when he wanted to relax, Snape had two glasses of wine, but absolutely positively no more. Bloody hell, he had thrown caution to the wind, gotten absolutely shit faced and he had _hexed_ Minerva. If that action didn't show that he was the true son of Tobias Snape and Eileen Prince Snape, nothing ever would.

It was an instinctive reaction when he had heard her mocking laugh. All those years of being ridiculed had psychologically scarred him, and so his first reaction had been to whip out his wand and hex her into a deep, dreamless sleep. Considering how hexes normally worked, he could possibly successfully argue his case before the Court of Dumbledore that his hex actually wasn't that a punishable offense. The Deputy Head Mistress would slumber for roughly an hour and then wake up completely refreshed.

Truthfully, it wasn't even a hex; it was a spell that Filius had created to assist him to falling sleep.

It wasn't as thought she would sprout boils in odd, painful locations, develop tentacles, spit up slugs or anything traumatic. All that would happen to her was she'd sleep. Minerva looked physically and emotionally exhausted as Umbridge was no doubt pushing the witch to her very tartan clad edge.

Maybe she'd even out sleep her hangover.

Minerva should thank him!

He should be so bloody lucky.

While he was wishing for the impossible, why not dream of being elected Minister of Magic, and wearing the Order of Merlin 1st class medal? Oh, and Minerva would give him a congratulatory snog in the Great Hall before a stunned crowd of all three hundred or so little-pointy-black-hat wearing students currently attending Hogwarts.

Speaking of Sleeping Beauty, the witch wouldn't sleep forever and he needed to be gone from Hogwarts before she woke. Perhaps if he took the time to hide and lick his bloody wounds far, far away from Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall would calm down.

No, she was Scottish, his mind helpfully pointed out. The Scottish had turned revenge into an art form over the last few thousand years. The irate witch would return to her quarters, paint her face a shocking shade of blue, release her long hair from the Bun o' Doom in which it was constrained, clad herself in tartans, wave bloody Gryffindor's sword as she shrieked a war cry…. and then it would be all out war.

But God bloody damn it, she'd look _magnificent_ as she chased him down the hallways, waving her wand, threatening him with eternal damnation and imminent castration.

Chastising himself severely for letting his thoughts get distracted by an irate, pretty girl, Snape tried to focus on the key issue.

His looming payback at the wand of one exceedingly irate Minerva McGonagall. He needed to run like hell!

Her retaliation would be _painful_ and it would be _embarrassing_ asAlbus Dumbledore would be informed of the situation. As it was, he'd be severely reprimanded by the Head Master for turning his wand on another instructor, let alone the fact that he had _hexed_ the Deputy Head Mistress of Hogwarts.

Worst of all, Filius would be so displeased with him.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN! He could face the Dark Lord, Albus Dumbledore and a slew of students and deal with them and their lack of approval. But Filius Flitwick, damn the man, would just shake his head and Snape would regress back into a cowering twelve year old, hiding from his father's anger. Filius Flitwick wouldn't even yell at him or say a cross word. No, it was the slight sigh of disapproving disbelief that always did him in!

Snape didn't desire to face Flitwick and inform him that he had lost his self-control. He'd end up informing the man anyway, he always did whenever he vowed he wouldn't, but this incident wasn't something he wanted to discuss with a hung over Flitwick. The Charms Master would laugh, and at the moment, his self-esteem was battered enough, thankyouverymuch.

The Charms Master would be the only one in all of Hogwarts who would completely understand why he had reacted the way he had. But still Filius would be deeply troubled that Severus had instinctively decided to hex Minerva rather than say, talk out the issue l**_ike an adult_**. Time after time, Filius had tried to desensitize him into not being a hair trigger away from completely annihilating someone with whom he disagreed.

How many times during those months he had stayed in Filius' quarters had Filius talked him through the various mental exercises, gently praising him when Snape didn't immediately grab his wand as his automatic response? Far, far, far too many and Filius had never once complained about his onerous, tedious task.

"_We can't do much about your mouth, Severus, but at least I can get you to a point where you won't hex your students in a fit of anger. Trust me, lad, you'll still want to hex the entire bloody lot of them. I know this seems impossible, Severus, especially since you foolishly believe that I have no idea where you're coming from. You need to learn control, or else you'll kill someone. "_

_"I have control," he had protested._

_"Severus, let's take a walk, shall we?"_

_The two of them had walked the grounds of Hogwarts, Snape deliberately ensuring that his long stride was shortened enough so he could walk side by side with the much smaller Filius. The wizards walked in companionable silence, until Filius pointed to a large rock. It was jagged and uneven with sharp edges suitable for climbing and for the scraping of one's knee, and it had been a Hogwarts' landmark for as long as Snape could remember._

_"See that rock? It used to be quite a bit bigger. Far bigger, until I lost my control one day, and spell casted lightning onto it. Bloody lucky that there wasn't anyone on it, as I would have killed them. It was an accident, Severus. To this day, I don't even remember casting the spell, but a student hassled me, maybe made a derogatory comment about my height or my size, and I grew angry. Lightning descended from the skies, and I blew that rock into smithereens. I thought I had control. I didn't."_

_"Filius..." Snape wanted to interject with a comment about no doubt the student deserved to be struck by lightning for upsetting the even tempered Charms Instructor. Good Lord, if Filius Flitwick had never so much as raised his voice at him, then that long ago student must have been a horrific monster._

_"There's so much you don't know about me, lad. For starters, I was in India for a year's sabbatical at the Indian School of Magic and Wizardry when the Kali Uprising occurred. I was there when Kali's Children overran the building and the corridors ran red with the blood of students."_

_This confession surprised Severus._

_He barely remembered learning about the Kali Uprising at the Indian School of Magic and Wizardry except that Binns had mentioned... Severus paused, trying to recollect what he knew about it. It had been a long time ago, the weather had been warm, and Binns had been droning on and on… A ha! Binns had remarked that the only reason why anyone from the school survived was because of a foreign wizard. The traumatized survivors had universally asserted that the foreign wizard had brought fire down from the sky to burn Kali's Children alive... and when the wizard's wand had shattered from the sheer amount of magical energy he was wielding, the foreign mage had used wandless magic against the invaders._

_Severus paused, and really looked at Filius Flitwick. _

_Yes... he could see Filius fighting, marshaling and leading the students in an all out fight for survival. The Kali Uprising had been a blood bath and the amount of magical energy necessary with a wand to create fire from the air was…. Impressive. _

_But WANDLESS MAGIC?_

_On THAT scale? Flames hot enough to melt stone?_

_Merlin's bloody staff, exactly how powerful WAS Filius?_

_"You." Severus stated softly. "You were that foreign mage. Binns never mentioned it was you."_

_"Yes," succinctly answered Filius._

_Filius walked away from the rock and he hurried after him. They walked for another ten minutes in silence, each man thinking his own deep thoughts, before Filius stopped and began to speak._

_"Binns has no concept that he's dead, Severus, so you can't really expect him to get my name correct when he tells the story. I've heard his lectures on the Kali Uprising. Binns doesn't get any of the parts of the story accurate, and I tried correcting him once because a lot of good people died, Severus. They **deserve **to be remembered for their noble sacrifice."_  
_  
The two men stared at each other, and then Filius shrugged his shoulders before barking a bitter laugh._

_"Come on, lad. Ask the questions. They're burning a hole in your tongue."_

_"I won't," Severus insisted. "You have your right to privacy. I will not pry."_

_"No, you need to know__. I can see it when we talk. You truly believe that the only reason I talk to you is because I have no concept of what you're capable of doing. I tell you, Severus Tobias Snape, I know what you can do, because I've done far more horrible things. In fact, if I were you, I don't know if I would actually talk to me."_

_Filius paused, and then the older wizard wiped his eyes. "So many dead, Severus, and so many by my hand."_

_Severus gave Filius time to compose himself and then the two men returned in silence back to Filius' quarters._

_"You're really not going to ask me about what happened, are you?" The Head of Ravenclaw inquired to the younger man. "Usually when I admit to being there, I'm requested to tell my war stories as thought it was some sort of grand heroic adventure instead of a chaotic slaughterhouse."_

_"It's not important to me, Filius. You are who you are, and nothing you can ever say will change that. If you wish to share your story with me, you will."_

_That profound statement caused Filius Flitwick to stop dead in his tracks. He then shook his head, muttered something that Severus couldn't hear but Flitwick seemed to be pulling his courage up by his bootstraps._

_Not Filius. He was **never **afraid, Severus thought.  
_

_"It's important to me that you know the truth, Severus. Three hundred and seventy two total students, only one hundred thirty eight survived. Twenty two instructors plus the so called foreign mage... only three of us managed to make it out alive. I could have escaped during the hostage situation. I could Apparate away, after all. But I couldn't leave the students behind, nor could I turn my back on those brave, foolish teachers that refused to let their students be slaughtered."_

_Filius paused, and then looked into Severus' black eyes._

_"I killed **forty seven** of Kali's Children, Severus. Less than thirty of my victims could even be considered to be adults.__ There's a six year girl in Ravenclaw House that looks almost exactly like one of Kali's Children that I killed. If I hadn't relearned my control, lad, I would have gone mad. As it is, I can rarely sleep the night through even though... it's been over fifty years, Severus."_

_Severus waited for Filius to continue or not, as he saw fit._

_"Lad, you need to learn control. You think because you've bottled your emotions so tightly that you've learned to control them. You haven't. You've just created a powder keg that will explode. Severus, Albus may have offered you a teaching position here, but you won't teach here until I tell Albus you're stable enough to do so."_

_"And if I can't learn control, I'll be no use to Albus as a triple agent. In fact, I could be a liability," Severus said that slowly and then he sighed, wishing what he was about to ask didn't hurt so damn much. "Are you my jury and executioner, Filius?"_

_Thankfully, Filius Flitwick didn't lie and give him cheery falsehoods about him being needlessly paranoid. No, the charms instructor looked into his eyes and nodded his head once._

_"Aye, laddie, that I am," the older man admitted. "I won't lie to you, but I had hoped that you would not ask me that particular question."_

_He blinked his eyes quickly, not wanting Filius to see the tears that were burning his eyes. He should have expected this. Flitwick was his protector and warden, overseer and confidant, he knew that it was quite probable that the Charms Master had another darker role. There was no way Albus Dumbledore would EVER let him wander the many halls of Hogwarts without someone insuring that they could take down Severus Snape if necessary. He had hoped his assassin wasn't Filius, and so Severus had pinned Albus Dumbledore as his most likely executioner_

_Bloody Merlin's beard twisted in a thousand bloody nuts._

_FILIUS! Filius Flitwick._

_The very same man who had brokered the summit to clear the air between Severus Snape and Rolanda Hooch would quite possibly be the very one to end his life._

_The Flight Instructor had lost family members due to the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, so it was only to be expected that Rolanda had loudly protested his placement at Hogwarts in the rather distinctive way Rolanda Hooch did everything. At the top of her lungs, screaming like a banshee, threatening to bludgeon Albus with a Beater bat for his stupidity at trusting a Death Eater._

_Once a Beater, always a Beater, Filius had dryly commented to Severus._

_It had been a tense meeting between the three of them. They had met in the tightly warded staff room where Filius had insisted that Severus turn over his wand to Rolanda as a show of good faith. The hawklike Flight Instructor had started off softly and before long she had completely lost her composure, shrilly accusing him of killing her sister, her brother-in-law and six year old niece. It had been an ugly scene, the ripping and pulling off of a half-healed scar so that Rolanda's festering emotional wound would finally heal cleanly._

_'You were there. You were there! They screamed for mercy, and you just watched! Murderer! __**MURDERER**__!"_

_He had stood there mutely, his emotions tightly restrained, allowing the witch to curse and scream at him. Filius had warned him that he was not to do anything to Rolanda, except to let the witch have her say. Hooch had nearly physically collapsed after putting all her energy into her tirade. Filius helped to her a chair, and offered her a handkerchief as she was sobbing uncontrollably._

_"Severus wasn't there, Rolanda. He wasn't there. It was Alecto and Amycus Carrow. Albus told you that. I've even visited the scene, used the lei lines to recreate the incident. I saw what happened and I swear to you, by my wand, Severus wasn't there, Rolanda. He's going to help us prevent the deaths of more people."_

_"Merilee was only six years old," the Flight Instructor wept. "Six years old!"_

_Hesitantly, Severus had placed his hand on Rolanda's shoulder, anticipating that she'd flinch away from him. He was a Death Eater. He had murdered for the Dark Lord, participated in the Dark Revels... he was tainted...but the grief Rolanda was feeling was affecting him. Six years old. Oh bloody, bloody hell._

_"The Carrows? Do they kill ... fast?"_

_Filius looked concerned, as he knew damn well how the Carrows were. They were vindictive bastards, who taunted their prey for hours._

_"Yes," Severus assured her. "It was clean and fast. They probably never knew what happened."_

_That brought a new spate of tears, and then Rolanda attempted to wipe her eyes._

_"I haven't slept more than an hour or so, as I keep thinking of them. I can hear Meri screaming. I can't take any sleeping draughts, because I'm allergic to most of the sleeping agents. Poppy hasn't found one yet that I can take."_

_Warily, he offered his assistance, knowing that she'd refuse his aid. "To what are you allergic? I could... try to create a potion that you could take. No dreams, I promise."_

_To his complete surprise, Rolanda Hooch looked at him. Her eyes were exhausted and her hawklike face was haggard and worn from her ordeal. The witch appeared to be on the last dregs of energy, and in fact, he predicted a complete emotional and physical collapse in her near future._

_"I could sleep? For more than an hour?" She whisper, her voice full of hope. "I'm so ... exhausted."_

_And Filius Flitwick had given him a secretive wink, and an approving smile. And Severus Snape had no bloody clue why._

_As an instructor at Hogwarts, or soon to be instructor, as soon as the school term ended and Horace Slughorn finished the last of his never ending retirement parties, he was obligated to help his fellow instructors as necessary. Hooch couldn't sleep and Madame Pompfrey couldn't help. Therefore since he could help, he would._

_Why the bloody hell had Flitiwck been so damn happy? And why the hell had he felt the first bit of happiness in a very long time about helping Rolanda? The bitch had threatened to hit him with a Beater's bat, rip his still beating heart from his chest and eat it raw. She had announced this at a staff meeting! And the only response to her desire to eat his uncooked heart had been Dumbledore's comment of "Argus Filch will be extremely upset if you make a mess, Rolanda. Remember that."_

_Merlin's bloody beard! Being on the side of Peace, Love, Goodness, Puppy Dogs and Happy, Smiley Students was so bloody confusing!_

_When the side of Goodness and Light left him feeling completely baffled, he took comfort in sensing all too familiar nuances, ripples and currents. The Darth Lord's followers always had to keep an eye out for possible assassinations. Be it from the Dark Lord or your fellow Death Eaters, you never got too comfortable, never got too trusting. Each Death Eater was quite willing to gain more power and prestige by any means necessary. So it was almost a relief to know that Albus Dumbledore wasn't a complete and utter fool. Behind those twinkling blue eyes, the smirk hidden beneath his damn beard, the willingness to allow Hogwarts to teeter on the brink of complete anarchy, lurked a Master of Strategy that was easily the Dark Lord's match. People might believe that Albus Dumbledore was good, honest and caring though slightly whimsical._

_Severus Snape knew the truth. Albus Dumbledore was a dangerous, dangerous man._

_And he scared Severus far more than the Dark Lord ever had.  
_

_But damn it… Filius? The Charms Master had become more than a mentor to him in such a short time. Could he admit it? _

_Yes. Filius Flitwick had become his only friend since Lily Evans. Therefore when Filius Flitwick raised his wand against him, Severus T. Snape would throw his wand to the ground and not do a damn thing to defend himself._

_"You'll... make it quick... won't you?" Severus requested. "Don't give me any warning, Filius. Do it quick. Do it fast."_

_"Aye, and I'll carve your gravestone with my own skill. But know this lad, I'll bitterly regret it."_

Bloody, bloody hell. How could he face Filius and inform him that he had completely cocked up everything by not controlling his temper? After all this time, Severus Snape had come so far, and yet not far enough!

* * *

Snape dressed quickly, using magic to make sure he looked presentable. Cravat just so, jacket and robe both neatly pressed. Filius was still sleeping, and so he had to face the formidable Rowena of the portrait alone to escape. 

"M'Lady Ravenclaw." He then nodded his head in acknowledgement of who she was after his greeting. You had to do things properly with Rowena or else she swiftly grew intractable. "May I leave? Is the corridor clear? Flitwick does not wish Umbridge to know that Minerva and I are here."

Rowena's portrait presented her pretty backside to him, as she peered down the corridors. Then she turned to face him.

"You may leave, as the corridors are clear in all directions until three intersections from now."

"Thank you, M'lady. I will return shortly to gift Filius with a Hangover Potion. If he wakes before I return, order him back to bed. Under no circumstances is he to try and charm himself headache free."

In the beginning when he had first moved into Flitwick's chambers, Rowena Ravenclaw hadn't approved of him. She'd often blatantly ignore his attempts at conversation when he spoke to her at Flitwick's urgings. He was Slytherin after all, but his friendship with Flitwick had made Rowena look more favorably upon him over the years.

"Thank you, Severus Snape. The Fat Friar's punch is still wrecking havoc, I see," Rowena Ravenclaw stated regally. She then ruined the effect by giggling while she motioned for him to leave. "Quickly! There are students to the North of us. You must use the East Corridor."

"I'll be back within fifteen minutes, Rowena."

He was in fact, even quicker than he promised. Before long, there were two potion bottles sitting on Flitwick's table along with a note.

"_Add this to one glass of liquor. Swirl and then drink it all in one gulp. Don't add anything else. You should feel human again in fifteen minutes. Ignore the nausea. It soon passes."_

That good deed completed, he returned to his quarters. Gesturing quickly, he Glamoured himself and then inspected himself in the mirror. He was tall, aristocratic, dark haired. His nose was no longer hooked, his eyes were blue and he wore a short beard. Thinking of that idiot Gilderoy Lockhart, he changed his clothes to match the color of his sky blue eyes. He wore a short cape, and he looked like a complete fop.

It would do.

He grabbed a handful of Galleons and Apparated away from Hogwarts. It had taken Flitwick and Dumbledore months to tweak the anti-Apparition spell of Hogwarts to allow him to do so undetected. He was supposed to Apparate only when he was summoned by the Dark Lord, but now he was fleeing the scene of the crime.

Upon Apparating into Diagon Alley, he changed his walk. He was sauntering like Lucius Malfory, an easy smile on his face. Fifteen minutes later, he walked into his own private hell.

"How many and for how long?" The blonde whore asked in a bored tone. She pointed in the general area of a faded piece of paper on the wall, unwilling to expend more energy than necessary while in the upright position. "You're new here, so read the House Rules so you know what the girls will and won't do."

He shook his head in response, and he handed her a small purse. The purse was red leather with gold trim, and her eyes widened in delight as she quickly estimated how heavy it was.

"Mr. Silence?" The whore questioned, though the Gryffindor colored purse was a dead giveaway. Her voice was no longer bored, but was now purring with eagerness. It never ceased to be amazing what a few Galleons did to perk up a despondent whore's mood. "I'm sorry, m'lord. I didn't recognize you. How many would you like?"

He held his hand up with various fingers raised. The whore counted his fingers twice, as she had difficulty counting beyond two.

"How long, Sir?"

Severus gestured with his hands, and she had to guess what it meant. The girl wasn't bright, but she did have a way of massaging his shoulders.

"Until the galleons run out? We've got some new girls, Sir. Would you like to inspect them? Or do you have preferences? It's early, so most of the girls aren't occupied."

He pointed at her, gave her a crooked smile and her eyes widened.

It was a never ending source of bitter amusement to Severus that he was the preferred customer of all the whores of Knockturn Alley. When Snape and his purse arrived, madams brought out the new girls that they had saved just for him; the trembling, fear stricken girls whose bright, bright dreams had deserted them until they were forced to sell their bodies to survive.

_"No worries, dearie, m'lord of Silence will treat you well. He won't hit you...or make you do a nasty. He's a good punter for your first time. He just don't talk, that's all. But you'll figure out what he wants, right quick. You'll learn right quick that they all want the same thing, after all. But at least m'lord of Silence will tip you well."_

If they only knew the truth, they wouldn't be so damn happy to see m'Lord of Silence and his heavy purse. _  
_  
"Me?" She hopefully whispered. "You want me, m'lord?"

Severus nodded, before he pulled out a small blue purse. He suggestively waved it at her and her eyes widened even further.

"Bonus for the girls, if we make you happy, m'lord?"

To hell with making him happy. He planned on giving them the bonus if they made him _forget_.

The poor girls tried relentlessly, so fiercely did they want to please their most gracious lord and benefactor, but even as all four were working on him, pleasuring him so intensely, he could still hear the mocking laugh of one Minerva McGonagall.

He gave them the money anyway, splitting the money among the four whores in different increments based completely on his own whimsy. After all, the Slytherin knew damn well what it was like to be given an assignment and having no hope of successfully completing it. Much like Sisyphus rolling that boulder up the hill, there was no end in sight for his task.

The whores each kissed him once more before he dismissed them. His mind was distracted, as Severus couldn't help pondering if Albus was correct.

_**It would be different if the woman was the one for which you cared.**_

Well, it was bloody unlikely he'd ever find out first hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimers:** Not my characters. Please don't run with scissors.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was dying, a victim of multiple applications of the Cruciatus Curse. Every bone hurt, every sinew ached, and her battered mind was screaming in the agony, wishing that her demise would be soon….but at the end, she hadn't been abandoned to die alone, unmourned, on the battlefield. A dear friend was nearby, no doubt about to offer some consoling words before she shuffled off this mortal coil. 

Yes, Filius Flitwick was there… but Merlin's bloody beard why the hell was the man … **_grinning_?**

"Drink it," Filius tersely ordered. He was holding a glass to her lips. To her complete horror, the glass was filled with an all too familiar looking liquid.

Last night's events flooded her mind, and she realized that she wasn't dying…. No… because nobody ever died from a Pomona's Punch Induced Hangover. They just wished that they did.

"It's more of Pomona's punch," she moaned. "You're trying to kill me, Filius. I thought we were friends!"

"Hair of the Dog, Minerva! Hair of the Dog! Actually Severus dropped off his hang over potion. It worked wonderfully well for me," Filius squeaked. "Haven't felt this good in years… decades…"

"Snape made it?" Hopefully Filius would blame her shaky voice on the hangover, rather than the real reason.

Minerva briefly pondered the question; was Snape the type to poison someone? After all, the lad had hexed her after she had rather callously humiliated him, so the idea of Severus poisoning her wasn't that far-fetched. She was also, and this bit was extremely too embarrassing to ever admit to anyone and _ESPECIALLY_ to herself, quite deserving of being hexed and poisoned. But the lad was clever, entirely too smart for his own good, and he wouldn't leave a witness. So unless Snape had decided to murder Flitwick also, she was quite likely to live another day.

Hopefully.

What insightful thoughts for a head that hurt as much as hers! The one remaining brain cell that hadn't given up the ghost due to extreme acute alcohol intoxication whimpered that she should just stop contemplating on whether or not Snape would attempt to kill her and just drink the bloody potion.

If she died, it remarked, at least the agony would finally stop.

"Yes, he dropped off two bottles. One for me, one for you. Drink it, Minerva."

"Did you take the same potion?" Minerva questioned.

The boy wouldn't poison her! He **_wouldn't_. **Would he?

No, Severus Snape would go to ground in his dark, damp dungeon and plot revenge. The Potions Master would also mercilessly take points from every single Gryffindor that crossed his path… just to get back at her.

Merlin's bloody beard, she had just successfully created a war that would never, ever end until one of them was dead and in their grave for three weeks. The Surviving Witch or Wizard of the Great McGonagall-Snape Conflict would then carry out a Celebratory Victory Dance on the deceased's grave. The bizarre mental image of a grinning, gleeful Severus Snape wildly dancing the Muggle Jitterbug on her grave, his black robes flapping and billowing while he loudly screamed _"Heh heh! I won! I Won! I WON! You heartless Old Woman, I WON!" _would not leave her mind though she attempted to banish it to the very back of her subconscious.

"I guess they were the same potion, they weren't marked," admitted Filius.

She gulped it then, and after a wicked bout of nausea passed, Minerva was surprised to realize that she felt … like a human being once more.

It took a little effort to make herself presentable, but before too long she was having brunch in the suite. Flitwick was having a fry up, and as always, she was secretly gobstruck that little man ate so much. Damn his lucky metabolism, she would have killed to possess it. But right now her stomach was too sensitive to even think of food, so she was content to have a cuppa and toast. The diminutive Ravenclaw Head was almost bouncing in his seat, and she envied him his energy. He was only one hundred and six years, four months and three days older than her, but you couldn't tell that he had been absolutely stinking polluted last night.

"You and Severus seemed to get along rather well last night." That comment was made with a sly smile as the Snape-McGonagall impasse had assumed legendary proportions among the staff some years earlier.

Sadly, the other staffers did not realize that they hadn't seen anything yet.

Minerva McGonagall made a murmuring comment that could have sounded like positive affirmation of Flitwick's comment.

"I'm well chuffed about that, Minerva. I know you two haven't always seen eye to eye on many issues, but it did my heart good to hear him laugh last night. He's… a complicated… individual and I know that he doesn't have many friends among the staff."

Flitwick wickedly smirked at that understatement. He then sighed and his good mood Apparated to places unknown.

"Let's be honest, Minerva, I know I'm the boy's only friend."

That admission was quietly said by the Charms Instructor. After last night, Minerva could unreservedly agree that his statement was all too heartbreakingly true.

"There's Albus," she pointed out. Damn it, the boy had to have SOMEONE besides Filius.

"Albus isn't Severus' friend, Minerva. He can't be. I trust Dumbledore with my life… but Albus has to view Severus as a Tool to be used for the Greater Good. Friendship with the boy would ruin his value to the cause."

"You make it sound like Albus doesn't care…" The protest came quickly to her lips. She was one of Albus' staunchest supporters, and Minerva would have bet all her Galleons in her account at Gringot's that Filius had felt the same way.

"He does care… but he can't be the boy's _friend_. We're at war, Minerva, and the Greater Good may require Severus' death. Would Albus willingly send a friend to their death? No. Would he break a tool? Yes, without any remorse or second thought. Tools can be broken, reforged and replaced. Not so with friendships, Minerva. "

"You don't truly believe that, Filius," Minerva disputed.

"Yes, I do, because I've lived through so many Wizard Wars, and each time I pray it's the last one. But peace never lasts… and the deaths begin anew. Good people willing die because their sacrifices are deemed to be made for the Greater Good. But the definition of the Greater Good is always changing, and then still more lives are sacrificed to it. The Greater Good is a bloodthirsty, fickle bitch, Minerva… I truly need help with the boy. I'm asking you to really think about it, and I'm requesting that based on our long friendship that you please do not immediately refuse to help me with Severus."

"Help? What help do you need with Severus? He's a bit too old for me to change his nappies," Minerva quipped.

Her joke failed to make Filius laugh and so she nodded her head in a quiet apology.

"I'm getting old, Minerva. I'm older than Dumbledore, you know, by a significant amount of years. My bones ache, and my mind is beginning to forget. I'm not as sharp as I once was."

Filius said that so matter of factly that she felt her eyes burn. She concentrated on her tea for a few moments, sipping the hot liquid slowly so she could compose herself. Flitwick was _ageless_, damn it. He had been at Hogwarts before she arrived, and she would have bet that Filius Flitwick would still be teaching long after she turned to dust.

"You still run circles around men a quarter of your age, Filius. I don't want to hear your self-pity," Minerva snapped. She gently smiled at Filius to ease the sting of her harsh comment. "Your bones hurt… so do mine. Take a potion!"

"I'm afraid that due to Umbridge, I won't be on staff at Hogwarts for much longer. Umbridge is Pure Human… I know she would like nothing more than to take wands away from all half-breeds as only _full_ humans should have wands. I'm on probation because of who my ancestors are and I can't possibly do anything to correct that situation. Therefore, I predict that I will be terminated from my position shortly after Dumbledore is. They'll claim it's because of my age… my health… but it won't be. That means, you'll be here by yourself."

"No, Filius…" she whispered her protest. "I can't do this alone."

"And when I'm gone… and Dumbledore is gone… Severus will have no one. It's a long, difficult, dark path that boy has decided to walk. If no one here is willing to be friends with him, to make the effort at reaching him, what will prevent him from returning back to He Who Must Not Be Named, Minerva? He had friends among the Death Eaters, Minerva."

Minerva snorted her derision as her opinions about Malfoys, Averys, Crabbes and Goyles were well known, as she leaned back recklessly in Filius' chair. It creaked alarmingly, so she quickly sat upright as she didn't want to go arse over tit.

"Yes, people who you and I would never lower ourselves to be friends with. But they welcomed him and accepted him for who he was. And Severus turned his back on them because he couldn't stomach what they were doing."

Flitwick stared at the ceiling for bit, composing his thoughts before continuing.

"Minerva, I offer the boy so little. I play chess with him, Minerva. We have tea regularly and dinner together at least twice a month. And after he's been Summoned, I do my best to be there to greet him when he returns. You've never seen him after a Dark Revel, Minerva. He's fey then, wild and uncontrollable, half mad from the ecstasy and the horror of a Dark Revel. The boy terrifies me then, as he's so far gone from sanity."

Flitwick shuddered at his memories, and Minerva reached over to place her hand on his small one.

"They offer him power, prestige and respect, Minerva. What do I offer the boy? A cuppa and some blueberry scones. Sometimes, I can give him a bit of Welsh Rarebit or Scotch Woodcock. The stories the boy tells me, Minerva, it's like I'm reliving the Indian School of Magic massacre. The boy wants someone to understand what he has to do in order to spy on Voldemort. He craves to be shrived of his sins by someone who truly comprehends the horrors he had witnessed. It's heartbreaking, Minerva."

To her shame, gentle hearted Flitwick was in tears.

"I absolve Severus for what he's done, and then he goes out to do battle again with a slightly easier heart. When I'm gone, he won't even have that small comfort. He desperately needs a friend and confessor, Minerva. Will you shrive the boy when I'm gone?"

Minerva sighed. The witch closed her eyes, grasping for the correct words to speak, but all she could think of was how the boy had kissed her and the pain in his dark eyes she had caused.

"And Minerva… by all means, feel free to give him a good kick in the arse. He truly needs it sometimes."

Flitwick laughed at his jest.

"Filius, I truly don't believe Severus would accept my friendship. Why not Pomona?"

That was the simple truth. Pomona was a warm, caring soul who mothered everyone equally with everyone including Albus Dumbledore, much to the senior staff's not-so-secret amusement.

To her distress, Filius naturally disagreed.

"Minerva, he respects you a great deal. Severus is also quite respectful of Pomona, but Pomona is truly fearful of him. She tries not to show it, but I can sense her apprehension. Severus needs someone he can trust absolutely, someone who isn't afraid of him and the horrors he has seen. You're not frightened of him, and you're willing to go head to head with him. Pomona is a dear woman, but she would not be able to listen to his stories."

"Snape respects Pomona and me?" Minerva tried not to snicker, but she couldn't successfully repress her laughter. Her laughter was loud in the all too quiet room. "You're telling me that sarcastic, snarky, caustic, acerbic…. Severus Snape… _respects_ Pomona and me? Have you gone around the bend, Filius?"

Her quip seemed to sadden Filius, as he rubbed his aching temples for a long moment before he spoke.

"Once upon a time, a long, long time ago in a place called Hogwarts, a young student got bullied. His arm was horribly fractured. Three people, Minerva, took care of boy. It may not seem like much to you, but that trio got the boy proper, well fitting clothes, new school books and a decent wand for the first time in his life. He kept that wand until the boy felt that by using the wand for He Who Must Not Be Named; he was dishonoring the man who had given it to him. His own House Head couldn't be bothered to assist the lad, but three souls decided to look beyond the fact that he was a Slytherin and see that there was a student that desperately needed assistance and compassion. Severus has never forgotten that we three were the only ones to ever help him."

_No, lad. No. Did your crush first bloom then?Because I was kind to you? Because I bought you a lousy ice cream sundae? You were so sad, boy, I thought a little ice cream might cheer you.  
_

Try as hard as she could to forget the sight, she could still see the shocky boy on the ground, his forearm shattered. Minerva remembered his increasingly desperate attempts to repair his wand even as he had unsuccessfully attempted not to cry in front of mocking tormentors. She had tightly restrained the boy while Pomona had straightened his arm, but she could still hear him weeping, "Why, why, WHY do they always go after me?"

By Brigit, Ain and Dana, she had hurt him just as surely as Potter and his gang had.

_No, Minerva, you hurt him far, far worse, as he trusted you. The boy cared for you, and since he rightfully knew how you'd react to that bit of news, he kept his feelings hidden from you.__The cold sneers, the acerbic comments and your inability to be in the same room for long without arguing were just pretenses. He probably enjoyed your arguments as it meant that you had your attention firmly on him. Did you ever make the effort to reach the boy? Offer him a cup of tea? You sit side by side at the Staff Table during meals, but do you ever talk to him?_

"Have you mentioned this idiocy to Snape? You must not have, because I predict that he'll say 'No'."

She tried to be brusque, to hide how emotionally distraught she was at the moment, but Flitwick knew her entirely too well.

"Oh Minerva, no… no… I couldn't spring it on him, wear him down enough to get him to agree and then have you say no. Truthfully, I must confess that I did discuss this matter with Albus first. I was unsure… and I wished Albus' advice."

She was developing a blinding headache right between the eyes. Over the years, the Head Master had repeatedly and not so delicately advocated that she unbend her Gryffindor pride long to befriend the boy. She could imagine just what his answer would have been. His blue eyes would be twinkling and his full beard would be hiding a definite smirk.

Damn the man!

What was she saying? Damn BOTH of them.

Bloody hell, _DAMN ALL THREE OF THEM._

Albus, Filius _and_ Severus.

"What did Albus say?" Minerva asked, though she believed that she knew the answer.

"Dumbledore was uncertain if my suggestion would work. He believed that my reasoning was sound, but he warned me that often times, sound rationality goes out the window due to other less tangible issues when decisions such as this are made. I was instructed to ask Severus only once, and to accept the boy's decision as final. I am not to press the issue."

Minerva blinked. That was NOT the answer that she expected from whimsical, maddening Dumbledore. Then Filius realized that she was weakening, and then he pounced.

"I will follow his advice, Minerva. But Minerva… think about it. Please. What did we swear to do when we joined the staff here at Hogwarts?"

"Protect the students," was her automatic response.

"Did we protect him when he was a student? Did we ever stop that vicious cycle of bullying? He was tormented by his parents and he was harassed by the Marauders, and he in turn, bullied back. As I get older, Minerva, I see so many mistakes that have been made and compounded by our insistence on using the four House system. Slytherin stands alone, while the other three Houses are together. The students separate into their houses, their new families, and it warps and distorts them into becoming what they were never meant to be. That boy's got enough courage to be in Gryffindor, Minerva. There's no way in hell I'd ever stand toe to toe with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and lie to him repeatedly."

"Yes, we did fail him. We failed Sirius… They are grown men, and they can't see beyond what they did to each other while they were here," admitted Minerva.

They were both silent for a few minutes and then Filius spoke.

"This isn't an easy request, Minerva. The boy is obnoxious, he's rude, he's arrogant, and he's an absolute terror as an instructor. He doesn't possess the smallest amount of people skills. I can always tell when my classes have had Potions before my class as they're shocked zombies. But we failed Severus, Minerva. We didn't care enough for him when he was a student, and now…we really need to look after our little Lost Boy."

"Is there any good in the boy, Filius? I know Albus trusts him, but I can't see why," Minerva admitted.

"He always makes my potion for my lumbago," was Flitwick's lightning fast response.

Minerva laughed softly and shook her head. "He's the Potions Master; I'd hope he'd make it for you when you asked."

"I don't have to ask, Minerva. He watches me and if I'm limping, I find it on my desk. If the weather changes, he makes it for me. The boy severely chastises me for overdoing it during the holidays or for watching Quidditch in bad weather, even though the potion is there in his pocket, ready to be handed to me after he's done lecturing me on my foolishness. I'd always have to ask Horace for the potion, I've _never_ had to ask Severus Snape to prepare it for me, nor have I ever had to ask him to increase the potency so I can get relief. We talk a great deal, Minerva, and there's much to him that you don't know. Please… help me with him."

_And there's so much about the boy, Filius, I pray that you'll never find out._

"I don't believe he would accept my friendship, Filius. I truly do not."

Filius nodded his head in acceptance.

"Very well then, Minerva. But… talk to him… please."

There was a knock at the door, and after determining that it was Pomona Sprout, she was allowed into the room. The Herbology Instructor was busy cursing up a storm and it took a few minutes for her to calm down.

"You weren't at breakfast today, so you missed it. The Toad is calling a _mandatory_ meeting for all teachers at two. She wants to discuss the probationary status of some of the teaching staff and what can be done to correct the situation."

Filius Flitwick grimaced in disgust, and then Pomona sat down on a couch that Minerva had quickly whipped up for her. She looked at McGonagall and then at Flitwick before she began to laugh.

"Is Severus _still_ sleeping off last night? He wasn't in the dungeon, so I ran up here expecting to find you three here, complaining about your heads exploding. I never thought the boy was a drinker, but…he had a hollow leg last night," Pomona laughed again.

"No… he left shortly around day break," Minerva stated.

"Now tell me, Min, how do you know what time the boy left?" Pomona asked, her tone teasing. "Did you two…share a bed last night? Did you two get any sleep? Or were you two busy..."

The gesture she gave Minerva was universally obscene and meant the same thing, Muggle or Wizardkind.

"POMONA! Unlike some people, I'm a light sleeper," Minerva pointedly commented. "I didn't have sex with Severus."

"I remember," Pomona sighed. "I couldn't even turn over in bed without you complaining. Seriously though, no sex with Severus? I was hoping for a full report especially if you managed to shatter his aloof demeanor. Min, are you losing your sex drive in your old age? I have herbs that can help. You know… Sinistra, Hooch and I have often wondered about what it would be like to bed the boy. Not all at the same time, naturally, but our professional interest in the matter was... aroused..."

"Pomona Sprout, that is _ENOUGH_," Minerva's voice took on the same tenor as when she was chastising misbehaving first years, and Pomona appeared honestly surprised by her tone.

Flitwick interrupted their verbal joisting, with a cough.

"He's not on the Hogwart's campus as he's Apparated somewhere. I believe that he's in London. Damn it, Severus, it's almost one. Why did you have to wander off?"

"You know where he is?" Minerva questioned.

"I casted a Tracer on the boy years ago; I _always_ know where he is. It's a very light one, so He Who Must Not Be Named couldn't sense it. Severus doesn't even know I've done it."

* * *

A few minutes after he returned to the castle, he saw the damnable Weasley Twins. 

They were skulking in the hallways, trying to inconspicuous, failing miserably as the words _Weasley_ and _Stealth_ weren't even able to be thought of in the same paragraph without a great deal of lager. George was carrying a large leather briefcase with Weasley and Weasley imprinted in gold letters, and Fred was handing out an advert of some type to several students. Damn it to hell, as an instructor at the fine institution of Hogwarts, he probably should nip this looming disaster in the bud. Yet, he had to be careful, because the last person he wanted to deal with was an irate Minerva McGonagall, who'd probably believe that her little darling lion cubs were being cruelly and unjustly punished by him.

Fortunately, none of his little Slytherins were involved, so he stormed over to the boys, his black robe billowing just so, and he secretly was amused by the look of absolute terror on the students' face when they realized that the Greasy Git had them cornered. He grabbed both Weasleys by their ears, and he pulled hard.

" Weasley and Weasley. One might believe that you're up to… something?" He drawled, as he began pulling them toward an unoccupied room. "Something…. Unapproved? Ten points apiece from Gryffindor for this."

"Ow!" Fred commented. "Professor Snape, I think you're about to pull my ear off!"

"Walk faster then…" Snape drawled. "Though perhaps I should remove an ear from one of you. It might prove beneficial in telling you two apart."

After they entered the deserted room, he let the boys loose, long enough for Snape to cast a _Protego_ spell before he pointed at the leather case with his wand. Severus Snape had taught the boys for far too many years to ever let his guard down.

"Open that," Snape ordered. "_Slowly_."

George and Fred looked at each other, and then swallowed in unison.

Oh no. The twins swallowing in unison… that was almost as bad as the two of them finishing each other's sentences. THAT was a cause for alarm.

"Yes…." Fred answered as George open the case.

"Sir," George finished.

In spite of his strong feelings about the Weasley twins, McGonagall and Flitwick had thought them ideal saboteurs for the Campaign against Umbridge. He, on the other hand, had his entirely too reasonable doubts. The two of them were worse than double trouble; they were Gryffindor and had sprung from Arthur Weasley's entirely too prolific loins to boot, combined with a strong possibility of the boys possessing only one mind twixt the two of them.

The three teachers had discussed the fact that the boys were selling… some contraband… among their fellow students, but they weren't certain what it was.Was it chemicals? Whatever the Weasleys were knee deep in, it was mischief, mayhem and trouble. More importantly, could the three of them use the Weasley products against Umbridge?

He peered into the case, slightly amused that the case was neatly organized with a dozen or so different products. Why couldn't the twins be that meticulous in his Potions Class? Using his wand, he made a stabbing motion toward a small pill that appeared to have two different colored halves. Snape picked it at random, for no other reason then its two colors clashed horrifically.

"Mr. Weasley, I am ordering you to take it," he commanded. "I wish to witness first hand what you are selling to your fellow students."

"Sir…" Fred vainly protested.

"Detention. Both of you in my office. Monday night for your refusal. Now… take it," Severus repeated.

Fred took the pill, and popped half of it into his mouth. Without delay, the red head turned a wretched shade of green and began power puking. Severus, having a finely developed sense of self-preservation, managed to jump out of the range of vomit so his robes remained pristine and unmarked.

_Fascinating._

He intently watched Fred Weasley for ten minutes, and he observed that the boy seemed to be in no hurry to stop puking. No, Fred seemed to have vomited up everything that ever might have been contained in his stomach and was now retching up various body parts.

"Professor Snape, Sir?" George questioned.

"What is it?"

"The problem is… once we start puking, we can't stop it. The other half of the pill is supposed to stop the vomiting, but nobody can swallow it as they're too busy vomiting. Our testers usually cease puking once they pass out. That should be in another fifteen minutes or so."

Mentally sighing about the complete idiocy of the Weasley Twins creating a vomiting pill that they couldn't keep in check, Severus Snape took out his wand and performed a non-vocal spell, stopping Fred Weasley in mid-hurl.

"Clean the floor, Weasley. Another ten points from Gryffindor for not being smart enough to grab a bucket. Now, what else are your little pills supposed to do, Weasley?"

George began explaining each pill, what they were supposed to do and how they weren't working even as his brother began removing a large pool of vomit from the floor. Merlin's bloody beard, these latest high jinks of the twins had the very real potential of killing everyone at Hogwarts.

Fireworks? Puking? Nosebleeds? Fainting? A portable swamp? Why, pray tell, did anyone want a swamp in the first place, let alone a _portable_ one?

Flitwick would have a laughing fit over what the twins were selling.

Hmmm… Flitwick…. McGonagall….

If McGonagall and Flitwick wanted the Weasley Twins involved with the Anti-Umbridge movement, then his fellow teachers would have to be willing to investigate the box and what was in it. Between the three teachers, they'd be able to assist the Weasley Twins in perfecting their little box of sabotage and mayhem along with ensuring that no one died.

Hmmm… on second thought maybe having Poppy Pomfrey and Pomona Sprout involved also would be quite beneficial.

"You are to bring that box with you on Monday. If I find out that you are selling, trading, gifting anything from this box to anyone, I will be… _displeased_. You are also not to use any of your private stock. Now go… before I report this disturbing incident to Professor McGonagall. I predict that she will be far less pleased than I am. Now, _leave_."

The twins ran out of the room as though the very hounds of hell were snapping at their feet, George clutching the leather case tightly to his chest.  
_  
This is madness, Severus! Madness! The Dark Lord, McGonagall, Umbridge and the Weasley Twins. Have you gone completely and utterly barmy?_

He was lost in thought for a bit, but he was quickly brought back to reality by a "hem-hem". Just his luck, Dolores Umbridge in a shocking pink cardie was smiling at him. It was a fake smile as it didn't reach her eyes.

"Professor Snape, I wish to talk to you," she said in a high pitched little girl voice.

"Go ahead," he drawled.

She did an intricate little casting, and by Merlin's bloody staff, a rather small and very wispyNatrix natrix appeared in her hand. It had a shocking hot pink stripe down its spectral back.

Bloody hell, did the bitch really believe that he wasn't aware that she was a Slytherin? But proper protocols demanded that he greet her the same way, recognizing their House Affiliation, so he quickly flicked his wand. A black Vipera berus appeared in his hand. The poisonous snake was a good size and quite substantial looking, unlike Umbridge's delicate snake avatar.

"My snake's bigger than yours."

She growled at his dry quip, her eyes narrowing in barely concealed annoyance and his adder hissed in response. It snaked into a Figure S pattern before it struck at Umbridge's snake. With rather noticeable gulping noises, his snake quickly swallowed Umbridge's casting. Adding insult to injury, he let the damn thing burp loudly before he disintegrated it. Dolored Umbridge turned a rather odd shade of pink which clashed with her pink cardigan.

"Where were you earlier today?"

He tried not to smirk as he imagined her reaction to "I was out offering sexual succor to the downcast ladies of Knockturn Alley."

"Out and about," was his answer.

"That's not acceptable, Severus Snape. As High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, I need to know where all staff members are at all times. Where were you?"

"Gathering supplies for potions."

She glared at him, obvious in her disbelief of that answer and he pretended not to notice.

"There's a meeting at two in the staff room. You will be there, and I will be discussing issues such as your probation."

* * *

Rolanda Hooch poked Aurora Sinistra in the shoulder and hissed loudly, "Aurora, you see that yellow thing in the sky? Don't look at it too closely, m'dear. It's called… the sun. Have you ever seen it before?" 

Sinistra, resident night owl, and Hogwarts Astronomy Teacher, shielded her eyes before she sleepily blinked at Hooch. "So bright! The bright light burns me! Make it _**stop**_!"

There was a rumble of appreciative laughter from their fellow teachers at the old saw. Minerva noticed that everyone in the staff room had chuckled except for Severus and Filius. Severus had taken the seat farthest away from her, blatant in his desire to avoid her at all costs, and he and Filius were conversing in low, urgent whispers. Minerva had extremely sharp hearing, heightened by years of teaching, and she could make out enough of the conversation to know that Filius was questioning Severus about his spur of the moment trip to London.

"I need to be able to contact you. What if you hadn't returned in time for this?"

"I would have considered myself lucky."

"You're on **_probation_**, Severus!"

"Along with three quarters of the staff, Filius."

"I don't care about them, Severus! I'm worried about you."

Severus looked away from Filius after that comment, and he noticed that she was staring at him. The pallor of his face increased, and his glittering black eyes narrowed in what she knew to be intense dislike. He glared back at her, daring her to look away first.

She mouthed, "_I'm truly sorry_" at him, and his hands tightened on the arms of the chair as though he was throttling her neck.

The battle of wills ended up being a draw as Umbridge swept into the room. She plopped a new Ministry decree in front of every teacher and Minerva forced herself to read the latest announcement, wondering what new insanity had been brewed up now.

_Hogwarts Instructors will not be allowed off the grounds without the prior approval of the High Inquisitor._

"I was most displeased that Professor Snape decided to leave the school today without informing me. From now on, all off campus trips must be approved in advance. Professor Snape, what were you doing off campus?"

"Gathering supplies that are not readily available here," was his quiet answer. "I assured you of that earlier."

Umbridge slammed her fist on the desk, and demanded that he tell the truth.

"I will have your job, Severus Snape. I believe that you were offsite, attempting to undermine my position here! Tell me the truth! Where were you this morning?"

The boy was still staring at her when he… smiled. It was a bitter, twisted grimace full of self-loathing and pain, and Filius inhaled sharply.

"No… no… lad… don't say it…" The Charms instructor said in a very soft voice. "Please… don't…. don't…."

Snape's eyes were still watching her when Dolores repeated her question.

"I was in Knockturn Alley, providing sexual succor to the various whores that are employed at Hannah's House of Hedonism. Alas, I did not think to get a receipt, so I am unable prove that I was there."

A witch dropped a tea cup and it shattered as it hit the floor. Then complete silence reigned, until Sinistra fortunately noticed that Charity Burbage was choking on a piece of scone.

"Anapneo, Charity! _**ANAPNEO**_!"

The other shoe was about to drop, the toad's face was swelling as she was furious at Severus Snape, the teachers were not saying anything because they simply couldn't wrap their minds around the concept that Severus Snape was a punter…. and then Madam Hooch hit Severus Snape on his back. The impact was like a Beater's Bat on a Bludger, as the impact echoed in the room.

Hooch then laughed _**hard**_. Raucously. Graciouslessly. But her laughter was infectious. Sinistra then joined in, roaring uncontrollably…. and soon most of the instructors were laughing. A few of them were applauding Severus's comment, and before long several witches were making snarky comments of her own.

"I'm surprised that the girls didn't turn tail and run away in fright the minute Severus Snape decided to drop trow!"

"Lordie, Severus. You shouldn't have to pay. Come up to my quarters anytime, boy! Let me ride your broomstick!"

"I'll carnally comfort you anytime, Snape!"

Everyone was laughing and shouting disorderly comments except for four people. Minerva wasn't amused, not at all. Umbridge was furious, Severus Snape had completely shut down and…and… Filius… oh, poor, sweet Filius was staring straight at the fire place, trying to conceal the unshed tears in his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Disclaimer:_** Not my characters. It'll be a little bit before the next update as RL is such a pain. Thanxs to those who are reading.

* * *

Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, was unable to cover any of the ninety seven points she wished to discuss at length in the meeting, as the Instructors had become as unruly as second years during the holiday. She would turn one evil eye toward the misbehaving instructor and then another teacher would burst out in loud laughter. 

"Come on over and see me some time, tiger. Pgrwwwwwwl!"

Rolanda Hooch was in rare form, quipping about whores and what they allegedly charged for various … services. She'd quote a truly obscene price, and someone would throw money into a growing pile on the table for 'Severus' next trip to the brothel'.

"Do you agree with that price, Severus? Or do you get a discount for volume? A young, strapping man like you should be able to handle four or five women," Rolanda quipped.

Minerva McGonagall said not a word, intently watching the scene unfurl. Filius had quickly composed himself and was now in full fledge disaster recovery mode. He was rapidly talking to a mute Severus, and she couldn't hear a word that the Charms instructor was speaking as Sinistra had decided to loudly impersonate the rather oblivious Trelawney.

"I predict… someone has experienced _**great **_pleasure….and will so again!"

That comment had Bathsheba Babbling and Septima Vector in near hysterics while Trelawney just looked mystified. You'd think that a Seer would know when she was being ridiculed. Merlin's bloody beard! Someone had to rein the children in, and so Minerva smacked her hand on the table.

Minerva, Gryffindor Lioness, roared.

"Silence! I am ashamed! Are we Instructors here? Or have the inmates taken over the asylum?"

You could hear a pin drop in the room. It was pleasing to know that she still had the power to scare a room full of Instructors. Naturally, Minerva would only use her powers for Good.

"This is a waste of my time. Dolores, if you insist on having these meetings, I would greatly appreciate it if you could actually _**moderate**_ the discussion. As it is, I recommend that we dismiss this meeting as nothing useful will be accomplished."

The witch offered her opinion in a prim tone, which naturally infuriated the Toad.

"So seconded," Fliwick quickly inserted.

"All in favor say 'Aye'?" Pomona questioned.

"Aye," was the resounding cry around the table. All answered 'Aye' except for the Toad and Severus.

"All opposed?" The Herbology Master asked quickly, though it was a foregone conclusion what the result was.

"I am!" Dolores exclaimed, her little girl voice shrill. "You have no right to adjourn _**my**_ meeting."

Merlin's bloody polka dotted knickers, didn't Dolores know the bylaws?

She tried not to smile when she looked at Filius. He gave her a quick smirk, as it was time to tag team Dolores Umbridge into submission. The fight would over quickly, with a rapid one, two, three to Dolores' head with the Hogwarts' Bylaws, a forty volume epic that only Filius Flitwick had ever manage to read and finish.

Rowena Ravenclaw had been such a stickler for convention that everything had been duly documented. Secretly, Minerva had always thought Rowena was a bit of a priss; but now the witch was quite willing to kiss her portrait.

"Point of Law, Filius," Minerva requested. She tried not to sound smug, but she knew she had failed when Professor Babbling hid her wide smile behind her hand.

Well, damn it, Dolores Umbridge was a bloody toad and brought out the worst in everyone.

"Hem…hem…"

Oh Gods have mercy, Filius Flitwick did not _**just**_ impersonate Dolores. She bit her laugh to prevent from cackling. Cackling! At her age! Rolanda Hooch was such a bad influence.

What the hell was the world coming to? Ever since the Toad showed up, she was drinking to excess, planning a rebellion with the Weasley Twins and Merlin help her… she was CACKLING like a crazed Muggle hedge witch!

The Charms Master stood on his chair before he began to quote the Hogwarts' Bylaw in a very sonorous tone.

"According to Hogwarts' Bylaw 193 section 9 column C line 413, the Four House Heads may recommend any meeting be adjourned, even if the Head Master of the school wishes the meeting to continue. A majority vote of 5/8 of all teachers present plus one is required for the meeting to be adjourned. All Four House Heads recommended that this meeting be adjourned as it was an utter waste of time. The vote being 13 to 1 in favor of adjournment, as Senior House Head, I hereby declare this meeting closed."

Dolores stormed out of the meeting first, and the rest of the Instructors left the room at a slower pace.

Minerva grabbed Pomona's sleeve as the witch walked past her.

"Severus, you don't mind if we give Dolores the money instead, do you? She looks like she needs a good lay," Rolanda yelled as she sauntered from the table. "The boys may want hazard pay though!"

The Flight instructor then barreled out of the room with Professors Babbling and Sinistra at her side. The three women were giggling uncontrollably, and Minerva overheard parts of the conversation, "Brothel… Severus… I thought I was going to have kittens! Let's have go have drink, girls!"

"Yes, Minerva?" Pomona questioned. "Merlin's beard this was a meeting that will be discussed for centuries. I can just imagine what Albus would have done if he were here."  
_  
If Albus had been here, it would never have happened._

"Pomona, send Rolanda flowers please."

_Thank Brigit for Rolanda's rude humor. She managed to turn Severus' comment into a joke. I think only three of us know that the boy was telling the truth. Good God, the boy was mortified as the girls kept making jokes. They didn't think he was serious, but…why did he admit to where he had been? The comment was directed toward me... wasn't it?  
_

"Already done, Minerva. Already done. She's partial to plants that attract hummingbirds, so I've sent her some plantings from you, me and Filius." Pomona assured her. "She was in rare form today."

"The subject matter was a bit scurrilous, and you know Rolanda," Minerva dryly commented.

"Aye, do I _**know**_ Rolanda. Now, Min, Filius looks like he's going to need help with Snape. I've got to make rounds in a few minutes, so I can't stay."

Minerva agreed, as Filius was still talking to Severus who was staring blankly at the fire. After the Sprout left the room, Filius closed the door with a flick of his wand. He obviously thought that it was just Snape and him in the room.

"Merlin's bloody scrote, boy!" Filius roared. "What the hell did you say _**that**_ for?"

Good natured Filius Flitwick rarely got angry. On the few times Minerva had witnessed his wrath, the emotional storm usually ended quickly with a contrite Filius sincerely apologizing for losing his temper. But this was a different Filius, and he was infuriated.

_He's furious because he truly cares about Severus.__His tears he hid earlier were because he knew that Severus was mortified. _

"I told her that I was acquiring supplies for potions. She didn't believe me," protested Severus. "I decided just to tell her the truth."

"I could have wanded you a receipt, Severus. Why the hell did you tell her you were at Hanna's? You know you've just slit your throat to spite your face, lad. She's going to watch you like a hawk now because you just humiliated her in front of the Instructors. That means no more extracurricular trips to Penelope's or any of the other brothels you frequent."

Severus appeared startled that Filius knew his dirty little secrets.

"Yes, I know all about your trips, lad, or do you prefer that I call you m'lord of Silence? I always know where you are, I always know where you go. I am your _**keeper**_, Severus."

The boy didn't say anything, and Filius shook his head.

"Why did you say _**that**_? Do you deliberately go out of your way to be offensive? You're bloody lucky that everyone else thought you were being sarcastic."

Minerva knew she needed not to be seen by either man, and so she quickly changed into her feline form. The cat witch crept beneath a couch and tried to make her cat self inconspicuous. She could hear their voices, but not see them. Wrinkling her sensitive nose in disgust at the sheer amount of dust under the couch, she made a mental note to inform the House Elves that their housekeeping in the Staff Room was a tad bit lacking.

"You are blessed with this uncanny ability for self-inflicted spell damage, lad. There are times I feel like washing my hands of you; I just don't know what to do with you. I _**don't**_. I've been trying to help you, but times like this make it bloody difficult."

"I'm truly sorry… Filius," was the boy's barely heard response. "I appreciate… all the effort you've made with me… I do…I know it hasn't been easy…"

"What I don't understand is… why the bloody hell did you direct that comment to _**Minerva**_? You two didn't sleep together last night, did you?"

"No!" Severus loudly protested. "How can you think _**that**_?"

Filius' anger faded and now the Charms Instructor sounded saddened rather then furious.

"Come on lad… I know how you feel about her…" Filius softly retorted. "You two were friendly last night. You were smiling, you were joking… You two shared the bed in my spare room, and then today, you directed a comment to Minerva about a bloody whore house! So, tell me the truth, did you two mortar and pestle last night, lad? Did your coupling end _**that**_ badly?"

Snape laughed. It was a bitter sound, full of self-hate and despair.

"No… Filius… we _**didn't**_. Do you honestly believe that Minerva McGonagall, bastion of Gryffindor pride would be delighted to know that a Death Eater fancies her? She'd be horrified and rightly so."

"Former Death Eater," retorted Filius. "_**FORMER**_."

"_**CURRENT**_…" Severus' voice cracked as he stressed the word. "I take part in the rituals. There is fresh blood staining my hands, Filius."

The Charms instructor sighed. "Albus will be informed of what happened at the meeting. In fact, Dolores has probably cornered him already, demanding your resignation. You know I kept your secrets, lad, so I don't believe that Albus knew about the girls..."

"I _**know**_ you keep my secrets, Filius… I truly do appreciate it."

That was admitted so softly that her feline ears barely managed to catch it.

"He'll ask me about it. I can tell him many things, Severus. You're right decent to the girls. You pay for the session for the girls you recognize, but you won't use their services. You don't beat them; you don't curse them out and I know the madams save the new girls for you to break in…. But I don't know why you go there… I don't. Albus will want to know why, Severus. It could be a weakness that could be exploited by He Who Must Not be Named."

The boy said not a word.

Filius' voice was cajoling as he tried to get the bitter truth from the reticent Snape.

"Tell me, Severus. Give me a reason so when Dumbledore asks me why I never stopped you, I can explain it to him. I want to understand, Severus. I truly do. I'm asking you to trust me, Severus. Don't tell me we're back to where we started so many long years ago. We've come so far, together, lad."

"They… don't… scream…" Severus admitted that slowly.

"I beg your pardon?" Filius sounded perplexed.

"They don't scream when I fuck them, Filius. They don't weep and plead for me to stop. I got so weary of… the only women I touched… were consumed and devoured in the Dark Revels. The girls… they _**touch**_ me… and they're not terrified of me. I feel… dirty… but it is a better sensation than feeling eternally damned, Filius."

"You're not damned, boy. You're _**not**_. No one is so far gone that they can't be saved."

Flitwick stated his belief forcefully, and Minerva had to refrain from fiercely applauding Flitwick with her little cat paws. Albus had chosen wisely when he had requested stalwart, gentle hearted Flitwick mentor the boy.

"Is our chess game still on?" Severus questioned. His voice sounded forced, clearly uneasy as though he was asking about more than a friendly game of Wizard Cheese. "I was looking forward to rectifying my crushing defeat last week."

"No lad, not today. We'll have to reschedule… I'm rather weary, lad, and need to rest."

"You will reschedule…. Won't you? _**Please**_?"

"I don't know. Albus may decide otherwise. He may deem our friendship as… troublesome."

Minerva crept forward on her dainty cat paws, and she witnessed Severus hesitantly kissing Filius. It wasn't a kiss of passion, as the act seemed more plaintive then fervent… Why did she think of a scared child, desperately wanting to soothe a parent's anger?

Severus then sorrowfully whispered into Filius' ear, "Please, please forgive me, Filius?"

"Lad, I've told you repeatedly, you _**do not**_ apologize to me like that. Your mother may have trained you to do that, but she was _**abusive**_, Severus. I will not _**accept**_ what you're offering. You're sorry and I accepted your apology. Now this conversation is over."

"I cock up everything, Filius. I didn't mean to insult you just now…. Old habits… they die hard."

"You're tired, Severus. Use the Floo to go to your room. Get some sleep as you need it. We'll talk later, I promise. We'll play chess, though I don't know why I bother, considering I'll just whip your ass again. Remind me to spot you a few more pieces next time."

Snape laughed, and then she heard him floo from the room.

There was a squawking noise and a quick puff of wind as Fawkes appeared in the staff room. The Phoenix gracefully circled once, and dropped a note in front of Flitwick. The bird chirped once and then was gone.

He picked the note up with evident distaste. Then Filius looked at the couch that she was hiding under.

"Minerva McGonagall, I command you to get out from underneath the couch. You are getting clumsy in your old age, witch. Be grateful that Severus was so upset that he didn't realize you were in the room," he ordered.

She hissed her protest at his comment about her clumsiness and her age, and then the tabby meandered out from underneath the couch at her own speed.

In a few minutes, Minerva was standing in front of Flitwick.

"For the love of Merlin, please do not ever tell anyone what you overheard," insisted her friend. "I was so angry with the boy I didn't realize you were still in the room until it was too late."

"Filius, you really think you need to ask?" She tried to keep the hurt from her voice as she thought Flitwick knew her better than to ask.

"We've been summoned by Dumbledore, Minerva. Dolores has already been to his office to terminate Severus."

"We go forth to battle for one of our own, " declared the Head of Gryffindor.

Flitwick delightedly smiled, and then looked at her hat.

"Might be more impressive if you brush the dust off your hat, Min."


	7. Chapter 7

**_Disclaimer. _**Not my characters. The Weasley Twins will be making an appearance in the next chapter, or so I've planned. Oh, to answer a question or two from a few reviews, I've never met to imply that Minerva is a bit of a hedonist. She's just a free spirit that loves freely. She just doesn't let the students know about the other side, until after they graduate. Just ask Remus. Also this story is somewhat AU, as it doesn't quite match the official timeline of OTP.,

* * *

"Might be more impressive if you brush the dust off your hat, Min." 

With a quick flick of his wand, Flitwick 'dusted' her. Specks of dust and motes of dirt rose from her clothes and made a small dust tornado that quickly flew over to the dust bin.

"There, that is much, much better, Min. There's no quicker way to lose respect of one's peers than by appearing unkempt." He stated that truism rather pompously, sounding suspiciously like Horace Slughorn.

"Yes, that's true, Horace," Minerva agreed, not bothering to hide her smile.

It was always good to have a friend in which one could commiserate and mock the various windbags they had known.

"_Secretee secludere_!"

Filius then waved his wand in an elaborate gesture to complete the intricate charm. While Minerva McGonagall strongly believed that Transfiguration was by far the most difficult of various branches of Magic to perfect, she did have to give a close second to Charms. At least Charms wasn't Potions, which was entirely too much like **_cooking _**for her taste.

"We can talk now, in private. I'm not sure if the Toad has set up any Spying Wards in the Staff Room yet, but if they're not here, they will be shortly."

Filius' gentle mien turned serious, and he motioned for her to sit down on the couch. Limping over to the leather couch, Filius gingerly sat down and tried to stretch his left leg.

"Blasted lumbago's acting up again. Minerva, before we face Dumbledore, I need to know. What happened between you and Severus?"

His voice was free from recrimination, but the Charms Master did give her The Flitwick Glare. Minerva McGonagall surreptitiously checked in the mirror in the Staff room to confirm that that she hadn't been Transfigured back to the age of 12. Damn the man, he always made her feel like she was twelve years old when he gave her _**THAT**_ look. Yes, everyone, from the first years on up, swore that Filius Flitwick was the calmest, most easy going instructor at Hogwarts, but Filius did have the Instructor's Glare down to a T.

Well, _**naturally**_, Filius had it perfected; he had only been teaching at the school since Godric had first opened the gates to prospective students.

_**Not nice, Minerva! Not nice at all!**_

"Whatever may have happened between Severus and me needs to remain between the two of us," she crisply informed Filius. McGonagall accepted the fact that she owed the boy _**some**_ discretion and she was never one to kiss and tell.

Her refusal to 'fess up earned her a spat of evil sounding language from Filius.

Merlin's polka dotted cloak, Filius Flitwick did _**not**_ just curse her out in Goblin! From the smattering of Goblin that she understood, his suggestion on what she could do with her broomstick was physically impossible besides being downright painful.

"Don't let Umbridge hear you talk like that, Filius," Minerva cattily snarked. "As for a broomstick…. Well… I never thought to use it like _**that**_. Maybe Rolanda has, but not me. Then again I'm not as worldly as you, my footloose, wandering friend. But do you really think it will fix what ails me? Did you pick that hint up on one of your many sabbaticals? Perhaps in Moscow? Or was it Taipei? Chicago?"

Flitwick grimaced and shifted uneasily on the couch. Whether his shifting was from pain or a guilty conscious, she couldn't say, but a small part of her cackled that Flitwick looked like a first year caught doing mischief.

_**Aha! Not so nice when the table is turned on you! **_

"That boy will be the death of me, Min. Announcing in the _**middle**_ of a staff meeting that he's visiting the brothels of Knockturn Alley!" The Charms Instructor wearily shook his head. "If I hadn't been there to witness it, I never would believe that he'd tell everyone that he visits a brothel for relief."

"You _**were**_ there, and you asked him not to mention it. You were aware how he behaves when he visits his… _**acquaintances**_." Minerva McGonagall would not use the word _**whore**_. Well, she would, but not in front of the prim and proper Filius Flitwick, even after his surprisingly risqué broomstick comment. "Filius, how did you know?"

"I'm not a _**voyeur**_, Minerva. Do you _**dare**_ to think that I pruriently spy on the boy's privacy? I have to always know where he is! He's my responsibility, Minerva, and I will not shirk it just because he's pestling and mortaring the whores." Fiery Filius roared that comment, and the witch held up her hands to show that she came in peace. The Charms Master quickly waved an apology.

"Damn lumbago. Always makes me tetchy, you know that, Min. I keep an eye on him through the Tracer. When he first began visiting the ladies, I remembered that Poppy is part of an outreach program for the ladies of Knockturn Alley and I 'allowed' her to nag me into assisting her. Every few months, I assist her with her clinic. Anti-contraception spells, anti-STD spells and others of the like, all which they need to keep themselves… moderately healthy in their business. They do gossip horribly, especially in front of a small, harmless old man such as me. I think they wish to embarrass me. I pretend to blush, and they tell me more. Oh, the naughty stories they tell, Min!"

Flitwick lecherously leered at her, and she shook her head.

"You're about as harmless as Alastor Moody, Flitwick," she quickly retorted.

Her witticism earned a loud laugh and a mock bow from Filius. The gesture of gentlemanly gallantry left him wincing in pain, naturally, and she shook her head, muttering a derogatory comment about men never ever truly growing up, even if they were as old as Filius and Albus. Filius took the comparison to the daft Moody as an accolade! Well, maybe with his checkered past, it was a compliment, but sometimes, even though Minerva knew him, and knew him very well, it was hard to look past his small stature, his incredibly large feet and his easygoing manner to see the talented wizard he truly was.

How many Instructors regularly took sabbaticals at other magic schools? Minerva should rephrase that, how many Instructors among the current crop of Hogwarts had actually taken a sabbatical? Just Filius, and when he returned from his leave, he was always renewed and recharged, his eyes sparkling and brimming full of bright ideas. Except for the Mumbai incident, and there was no one on the current staff that had witnessed his return from that ordeal. Yet, Filius had continued to indulge his wanderlust to other schools after Mumbai. Perhaps... he had the right of it; one did get too complacent and comfortable, even with these Dark Times. If things ever settled, and that illusive mistress known as PEACE decided to stick around, maybe she should take a turn at one of the schools in the Colonies.

That thought reminded her, how long had it been since the footloose Filius last left Hogwarts? Even for a few days? She tallied her sums, and to her surprise, the witch realized that Filius hadn't been even to so much as a symposium since he taken on the onerous responsibility of Severus Snape. No, he was tied to the school now, even on the holidays, just in the off chance that Severus might need him. Her friend had never once complained and Minerva was shamed to admit that she had never thought about the sacrifice Filius had willingly made.

It was too damn easy to underestimate Filius.

"Yes, but he looks dangerous and crazed, while I look… innocuous. But that's how I know how Severus treats the girls. Please, Min, accept my apology. Forgive a very old man for being bad-tempered, I should never have snapped at you," Filius contritely apologized.

"Nothing to forgive, dear. Why didn't you ask Severus for his potion while he was here?" The witch knew she was channeling Molly Weasley, but she didn't care.

"I wrenched my back when I was yelling at the boy. Damn it, Min. I should never lose my temper with him; Sev just retreats back to being twelve years old again. Did you see how he responded when I warned him that Albus may decide that our friendship is troublesome?"

Filius' voice was quietly intense when he asked that question. When she failed to reply, he asked again.

"Did you, Min?"

Damn it, it was like she was back in his class again, and he wasn't satisfied with one of her answers. Filius had always pressed her a little harder than her classmates so that she could fulfill the potential he saw for her. As a student, Minerva hadn't liked the pressure to perform then, and she sure as bloody hell didn't appreciate it now.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Minerva offered slowly.

"You were under the couch, observing us with your sharp cat eyes, Min. You crept forward, and you must have seen the boy… _kiss_… me." Filius' voice was full of revulsion, and he shook his head. "I wrenched my back then, as I jerked away. I wasn't sure how far he'd go and I didn't wish for you to witness it."

Minerva McGonagall slowly replayed the scene in her head, re-examining the subtle nuances that she had noted the first time through and Filius nodded his head.

"He was abused as a child by his mother and his father. Verbal, emotional, physical mistreatment… dare I admit my darkest fear? Sexual? If you're going to befriend the boy, Min, you need to be extremely cautious when you disagree with him. If he cares for you, he'll blow your difference out of all sense of proportion to reality and he'll do _**anything**_ to assuage your anger."

"Including sitting outside the Gryffindor Common room for hours," Minerva whispered, as she remembered the ruckus Severus had caused all those long years ago when he had argued with Lily Evans.

"Aye. Minerva, the boy's come so far, and we're right back at the beginning. He offered me his body just now, Min. I could fuck him, beat him, hex him. He would have cheerfully endured whatever abuse I inflicted if it would mean that I was no longer angry with him. Sev hasn't made that extremely _**repulsive**_ proposition in almost twelve bloody years, and I, for one, have not missed that obscene proposal. What the bloody hell happened between you two?"

Flitwick reached out to her hand and squeezed it.

"I need to know, so I can help him. I won't judge you, Min, and I won't inflict my personal values on you or Sev. If I've known about his visits to Knockturn Alley all these years, and I haven't said anything… you can trust me," Filius gently insisted. "Of everyone here at Hogwarts, I can state that I have the boy's best interests at heart."

Oh Merlin, Filius was radiating sincerity and sympathy, which just made Minerva feel like a bigger idiot.

"We shared the bed in your spare room," admitted Minerva. She raised her hand to silence Filius, though he hadn't so much as opened his mouth to say a single word. "Platonically, nothing happened as we both entirely too pissing drunk. When I woke up, I thought it would be funny to tease him… about our allegedly wild night together."

"His reaction?" prompted Filius after she paused. His sharp eyes narrowed and she felt as though she was a tasty mouse being examined by a very hungry eagle.

"Confused, bewildered. Stunned. I made a few risque comments about his stamina… Gods help me, I joked about him not remembering us shagging after he confessed that he secretly loved me."

The sharp intake of Filius' breath as he winced was his only reaction to that tidbit.

"I continued the joke for a little longer, long past it being funny and he asked me…. how I couldn't be sickened and furious by his interest. It was only after he kissed me that I understood that the boy believed that I was being truthful. I tried to turn it into a joke again to save face and Severus was… _**upset**_…" Minerva stressed the word, and said nothing more. There was no way in hell that she would tell Filius that the boy had hexed her.

"What a tangled web one weaves, when first one practices to tease…" Filius misquoted with a long sigh. "You had no inkling about what he felt towards you?"

"No, I _**never**_ would have joked about it. The boy is just so reserved, Filius."

The two instructors sat in silence for several minutes, and Minerva wondered if she should remind Filius that they were expected in Dumbledore's office a few minutes ago. The Charms instructor grimaced and began speaking quietly. She had to strain to hear him.

"Minerva, I've been dreaming about… Mumbai. Horrible, horrible dreams. I'm back in the corridors... fighting. The dreams... always ends the same way, Min."

The witch could feel his emotional pain, and so she reached over to squeeze Filius' hand. Sometimes a comforting touch would be enough for a troubled soul to reveal its pain... and far too many times, it wasn't. She would let him continue... or not... as he deemed. The diminutive Charms instructor was staring at the wall, seeing the ghosts of a painful past that he would not fully reveal to anyone.

"Do you want to know how the nightmares end, Min?"

He asked softly, but Minerva could hear how Filius desperately needed to tell someone, but he was still giving her the chance to say no.

_**Stubborn, protective fool. How atrocious was it that you still want to shield me from it at the cost of your own pain? **_

"Tell me, Filius. You know I'll listen, dear heart."

Flitwick removed his glasses and roughly wiped his eyes. She created a handkerchief, bright and in the Ravenclaw colors, and presented it to him. He roughly blew his nose, and Filius gave her a slight half smile.

"I'll make you a new one," he promised. "Handkerchiefs made out of air are impossible to clean and press."

"Don't be silly. Now Filius... how do your nightmares end? What do you see that is so horrific?"

Flitwick looked away from her and he swallowed... once.

"Severus. He's lying on the ground, and he has a large snakebite on his neck. A Nāga... I think it is a Nāga as I've _**seen**_ Nāga bites up close, but it's the biggest bloody Nāga bite I've _**ever**_ seen. Sev's dying, there's no way to stop it as the poison is just dissolving his organs. It's an excruciating way to die, Min."

He looked at her, and his eyes were full of tears.

"I've seen people die... from the wounds of a Nāga. It is... horrible. It is a _**mercy**_ to kill them. You understand that, Min? That sometimes... it is a true act of love and compassion to kill someone?" Filius whispered that question, as though he needed her approval.

_**Bloody, bloody hell. Euthanasia? Filius had done THAT in Mumbai? Does Albus even suspect? **_

"Yes," she fervently agreed. "It is the act of a true friend, Filius, to free someone from such agony."

Filius stopped speaking for a bit, and Minerva began to rub his shoulder. Flitwick was never truly easy with accepting solace and affection from most people, but the two of them were quite close. His small hand squeezed her hand to show his appreciation, and then she stopped at his unspoken request. He'd only take a small allotment of comfort when he spoke about Mumbai, and no more, as though to allow himself to completely stop grieving would diminish the deaths of his former students.

"He smiles at me, Min. The blood is gushing like a waterfall from his nose and his mouth, but Severus is happy because I'm there. Then the boy always says... the same thing."

He shook his head, refusing to give voice to his nightmare, and Minerva hugged him. After a few minutes, after her dear friend had relaxed into her embrace, he wept, soaking her robe. Her wet robes mattered not at all to her, as Filius was finally permitting himself to grieve for himself... for Severus... for whatever he had done in Mumbai that still affected him. She owed him that much, and certainly significantly more. After her friend had stopped weeping and had composed himself, she gently prompted him.

"What does he say, Filius?"

"'I knew you'd come. I knew you wouldn't let me die alone'. He calls himself the Man that Dies, Min. For Snape, there's two sides to the Harry Potter coin, Min, the Boy that Lives, and the Man that Dies. How can one man be so without hope and still stay sane?"

What could she say in truth? Nothing that wouldn't sound like false platitudes, so she continued to hug Filius. Finally, Filius extricated himself from her embrace, slowly clambered off the couch, and limped toward the floo.

"To hell with Umbridge, I'm not walking all the way to Dumbledore's office. Merlin's Beard, I had hoped you'd able to help me with Severus, but I now suspect that it would be a very _**bad**_ idea." His voice was gruff, and she knew that he was still feeling a tad bit shaky.

He grabbed a handful of floo power and sprinkled some. The brilliant emerald fire blazed and he stuck his head into it.

"Albus? I need to speak to you, may I use the floo?" Filius waited a few minutes, and pulled his head out of the fire.

"It's safe. Umbridge isn't there, but Severus is, and the boy is in a right state. Come on, Min! We're off to the see the Wizard!"

Once again, Filius' cheerful demeanor had returned, and Minerva shook her head, marveling at how strong Filius Flitwick truly was. She walked towards the floo and Filius stopped her from entering the fireplace. Minerva looked at him in surprise, and he softly said,"Thank you, Min."

* * *

After the disastrous cock up of a Staff Meeting, Severus had flooed to his quarters, paced a bit, and then rapidly came to the conclusion that he had no choice in the matter but to speak to Albus before Filius did. To bloody hell with Filius' suggestion that he get some sleep, he needed to stop the avalanche he had created. Maybe if he gave a proper explanation about everything to the High Court of Dumbledore, an executive pardon would be decreed and the criminal would be given a reprieve. Well, he bit back a bitter laugh, that hope was a load of rubbish. There was no reprieve for him, but maybe the backlash of his stupidity wouldn't adversely affect Filius. 

Perhaps if he managed to speak with Albus before Filius did, Albus wouldn't ever know that Severus Snape had completely reverted back to his old ways.

Oh bloody, bloody hell, he had _**propositioned**_ Filius.

Fortunately, there had been no witnesses to him kissing Filius on the cheek. Filius had been so furious with him that he had instinctively reverted back to the old habits he had learned to keep his mother's ire at bay. His mother would kiss, fondle and paw at him, and Severus would allow it, because the only currency he had to assuage her anger had been his body. It was horrendous enough that the older man had been angry with him, but now Filius was in all likelihood even angrier with him now besides being disgusted… and… disappointed.

He never learned! He was always cocking up anything that was good in his life.

Filius yelling at him had deeply rattled him. All those years that Flitwick had been stuck with the greasy git, the black bat, and he had never so much as once raised his voice. The Charms Master had often smirked at Severus, raised a disapproving eyebrow, given him a dirty look or three, rolled his eyes heavenward while he loudly prayed for patience, and the cringe inducing sigh of disbelief, but Filius had never actually yelled.

Until now!

He had even _**CANCELED**_ their chess game and had not rescheduled it because Dumbledore would not be pleased.

The result of his reckless decision to speak with Dumbledore had been meeting Dolores Umbridge in Albus's office the minute he stepped out of the floo. St. Albus the Shrewd Conniver had been rather cheerfully showing Dolores everything that Severus had allegedly bought for him when he was offsite. Three bags of Lemon Drops, a dozen chocolate frogs... Albus had deliberately pratted on and on about his various beloved sugar confectionaries until Dolores Umbridge had nearly stroked.

"That was so nice of Severus to think of me when he was in Diagon Alley. But, lad, you gave me your receipt from Slug & Jiggers. You'll never get reimbursed from the Board of Governors if you don't submit your receipt." Albus smiled at Dolores, his blue eyes merrily a twinkle, even as a confused Severus stared at the receipt he had he had never before set eyes upon. "Paperwork makes the world go... wrong."

In an ungodly orange ink that was the trademark of all Slug & Jiggers' receipts, it stated that one Severus T. Snape, Hogwarts Professor had purchased a few various odds and ends from the apothecary.

Yesterday.

During the time he was most assuredly communing with the Hanna's Whores. In fact, if he remembered the time correctly, his doppelganger had purchased these items when the girls were having a go at something rather esoteric and erotic that _**should**_ have left him screaming in ecstasy.

"I would suggest that next time an Instructor gives you a logical reason for being off campus, it is most likely the truth, Dolores. Now, if you don't mind, Severus and I need to discuss his budget for next year." Albus' tone was mild, but Severus knew a dismissal when he heard one. As did Dolores, as she flounced out of the room, the flush of her face contrasting greatly with her pink cardie.

She gave him a look full of hatred, and he ignored it. Her good opinion mattered not an ant's ass to him.

"Albus..." Severus attempted to explain, but Albus held his hand up to silence him. They waited for several minutes and then Fawkes chirruped.

"She's gone so we can speak freely. Whoring? Severus Tobias Snape... you were out _**whoring**_? I am most displeased. I will speak to Flitwick and express my sincere reservations and deep concerns about your extracurricular activities."

"Master…. Please… let me explain…" To his intense humiliation, he became nearly completely undone at the implied threat of Albus severing his friendship with Filius.

All Severus could focus on was that there would be no more teas, no more chess games, no more sitting in Filius' library, pleasantly whittling away the summer hours engrossed in an esoteric book of magic. No more sanity, no more safety... no more treasured moments of normalcy. He'd be alone on his return from the Dark Lord, no one caring enough to see if he was injured or in need of assistance.

Between Minerva, the Staff Meeting and now _**this**_... combine them with running on near empty physical reserves; Severus knew that he was shaky. Crossing his arms, feeling that all too familiar sense of panic from his early years at Hogwarts, his hands were clutching his arms so tightly that he knew that tomorrow he'd have vivid bruises. He must regain... control...He must regain... control... Discipline... _**Discipline**_... Control your emotions... or they will control you...

He was back in the closet... in the dark...Albus would lock him in it forever and ever... and damnable whimsical Dumbledore would lose the key. The darkness... he hated the dark, the closet was so small, and he needed to wrap his arms tightly around his knees so he could fit... Severus would not scream. He would not... Would not... but he would scream... he always did...

_**Merlin... Filius won't laugh when he hears me scream? **_

Why, why, WHY, did the side that was purportedly the Good Side always leave him feeling so... confused, adrift and friendless?

It would just be far easier to tell Dumbledore to Sod Off and return back to the Death Eaters.

He had warned Albus about the Potters, and that had indirectly led to Pettigrew betraying them. The memories of Lily Evans still rubbed him raw when he looked at them too closely... but damn it, Lily, he had never meant for her to die. Didn't he try to prevent it He hated the fact that her blood was on his hands... and that's the only reason why'd he stay right here at Hogwarts.Merlin help him... as it hurt to confess, even to himself, The Man That Dies wouldn't fail that damnable Boy That Lived. Severus had failed Lily once, and he would never again, which meant he'd protect Potter's son.

The Dark Lord wanted to partake in his Dark Revels with Minerva as his 'consort', and his blood ran cold at that thought. Damn her, damn her for mocking him... but he'd protect her. Oh Merlin's bloody beard, he'd die trying.

He'd die friendless, alone and scorned by everyone. But he had to do the right thing for _**once**_ in his blighted life... all for a woman who despised him and a boy he hated.

_**Oh God, don't let me cock this up too!**_

Dumbledore gently patted Severus on the shoulder, interrupting the younger man's dark thoughts. "Lad. It's alright. Take a seat on the couch. Minerva and Filius will be up here shortly, and I need to speak the three of you together."

"Master..."

"Don't use that term with me, Severus. I've told you that. You're far younger than Filius and I are, and we should have thought of this. Old men forget what it was once like to be young, Severus."

Albus' blues eyes were compassionate and full of understanding, but Severus knew that he didn't deserve compassion or comprehension.

"Filius... he didn't know... I kept it from him... It's not his fault, Master. It's _**mine**_," he pleaded. "Don't be angry with him. Take your anger out on me, please. _**Not Filius**_."

"Severus..." Albus placed his hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "There's no blame in this, nor is there any anger. Just sit on the couch until they get here. You look exhausted."

Then Dumbledore pushed him towards the couch, and Severus, realizing that he was dismissed, stumbled toward it.

He'd never understand the Side of Love and Light, Puppy Dogs and Fluffy Bunnies. NEVER.

* * *

"Fawkes, would you mind cheering Severus? He is in need," Albus whispered to his Phoenix. 

The Phoenix chirped his understanding and flew toward the couch. Severus was sitting on the edge of the couch, shoulders slumped, his arms wrapped around his knees, his long black hair hiding his face. He was a picture of absolute misery and despair. Fawkes landed on the arm of the couch closest to Severus and gave a friendly chirrup. The sound seemed to penetrate the boy's depression and Severus looked at Fawkes. The Phoenix then whimpered sadly, making a nudging gesture with his head and Severus leaned over to Fawkes. Snape hesitantly held out his hand and Fawkes pushed his head underneath the boy's hand.

"Oh? You want a scratch?" Severus softly questionedd.

Fawkes chirruped an agreement, and being the very model of Phoenixy consideration, made his way from the arm of the couch into Severus' lap, so that Severus wouldn't have to stretch too far to scratch him. Severus began to dutifully scratch the Phoenix and Fawkes began to croon his delight that his maddening itches were being suitably addressed. Albus managed to hide his smile, as he figured that Fawkes would have Severus deeply asleep in a matter of minutes.

Actually, Severus had probably managed all of a dozen scratches suitable for an itchy Phoenix before his head slumped to his shoulder.

"Good work, Fawkes. Would you mind staying with him until he wakes? He deserves pleasant dreams for once."

Fawkes chirped his agreement, and before long, with a few suitable flicks and swishes of Dumbledore's wand, Severus was lying supine on the couch, complete with a fluffy pillow on which to rest his head. The boy was so obviously exhausted, mentally, physically and spiritually that there was no doubt he'd sleep for hours. Fawkes was dozing on Severus' chest and Albus couldn't help but smile. Merlin's beard, Severus looked so young when he was sleeping, the cruel lines of self despite softened into a nearly unrecognizable face.

_**Godric, sometimes I believe we sort our houses far too young. He has a Gryffindor's courage, the brains to match any of Ravenclaw's brightest, and the ability to love another person so fiercely that only a Hufflepuff could understand.**_

He heard Filius addressing him from the floo.

"Albus? I need to speak to you, may I use the floo?" Flitwick requested.

"Yes. Dolores is long gone, but Severus is here. He was in quite a state, so Fawkes has calmed him. He should sleep deeply for the next few hours."

Minerva and Filius soon arrived via the floo. To his complete lack of surprise, Filius limped over to the boy to check on him, muttering and fussing over the boy. What surprised him was that _**Minerva**_ followed Filius. A tad bit awkwardly, but she did. Minerva appearing concerned about her Slytherin adversary Severus?

_**Fascinating.**_

Albus naturally said not a word about what he noticed, but he filed it away, so he could suitably ponder Severus' behavior and Minerva's change in attitude.

And how he would be able to make use of it.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Disclaimer_**. Not my characters. Albus decided to be awfully chatty and so Fred/George will be next chapter. Don't blame me, blame Albus. Thanks to everyone for reading. Some minor DH spoilers.

* * *

Fawkes the Phoenix was attempting to slumber. He was aiming to match the breathing rate of the man that was acting as his living pillow so that they would 'resonate' in order to promote healing, and someone was _**disturbing**_ them. Therefore, he could not be blamed when he opened one black eye to glare a silent warning. After all, Fawkes had been given an assignment, and unlike other flighty members of the feathered kingdom, Phoenixes **_never _**shirked their duties.

"Hush."

He was a Phoenix, who dared to _**shush**_ him? That indignity caused him to open _**both**_ eyes. Ah! It was the female that always spoke to Albus, and who had been his mate for several seasons. He heartedly approved of her… but what was her name again?

_**Minerva**_

Plus there was the smaller, older male that often whistled to him. It was pleasant that at least one of Albus' companions attempted to appropriately converse with him, plus the small man often had snuck him Phoenix Treats. Not that Albus failed to give him the occasional treats, but for someone that loved sweets as much as Albus did, he was rather... chintzy... with dispensing Fawkes' treats. Not so the little one and Fawkes wholeheartedly approved of the one Albus called Filius. He often spent his free time when he wasn't keeping a protective eye on Albus, listening to Filius' assorted musical groups. Least, Fawkes listened to the more proficient ones, as some of the younger students' attempts at music sounded like bending metal and were far too painful for his sensitive Phoenix ears.

"Fawkes, I'm just covering Severus with a blanket. Do you want to be tucked in also?" Minerva asked.

He dismissively chirruped as her amused tone, and the woman doubtfully looked at Filius. Alas, she had no aptitudes for language!

"Sounded like no to me," he helpfully offered. "A rather offended no, actually. Phoenixes are notorious in maintaining their dignity."

The man beneath him drifted out of his deep sleep, twisted on the couch and moaned. Fawkes gave both humans a very annoyed _**'See what you did!'**_ glare and then began softly crooning, trying to lull his patient back to sleep. The boy was experiencing a nightmare regarding something that had happened with Filius. In spite of Fawkes' best attempts at calming, his patient woke and realized Filius was there. For some reason, Minerva stepped out of the boy's view, and she was unfolding an emerald green blanket behind the couch.

"Filius?" Fawkes' patient asked; his voice hoarse. He reached for Filius' hand and clung to it.

"Aye, lad. It's me." The man's voice was almost a croon, suitable for soothing a frightened nestling.

"Had a bad dream... you washed your hands of me..." he whispered.

"Not getting rid of me _**that**_ easily. Go to sleep, Sev. I'll talk to you later about rescheduling our game."

"We're still playing?" he pleaded hopefully.

"Aye, but I think it's time to teach you Go. I have a spare set somewhere. You'll like it, lots of strategy. The game can be won or lost based on the placement of a single game piece. But that's for later, now you just close your eyes, and sleep. I'll put a temporary ward up so you can sleep. You're too exhausted to safely play with mind charms, lad."

Fawkes' patient nodded his head, and closed his eyes. The Phoenix approvingly crooned as the boy slipped back to sleep.

"Fawkes? Would you mind moving for just a second? I'm setting up a ward."

After the ward was placed, and the green blanket covered his patient just so, Fawkes crawled carefully back into position, ensuring that his talons did not harm his patient.

"Take good care of him, Fawkes," requested Filius.

For some reason the man laughed at Fawkes' glare. How... humiliating!

* * *

Albus, being a keen observer of humanity and all its various quirks, quietly watched the scene.

Naturally, Filius had checked on Severus, but Minerva... Minerva was acting distinctively unMinerva-like.

Considering how very well he knew Minerva and her Scottish quirks, and even appropriately discounting the tawdry tale Dolores Umbridge had no doubt distorted beyond all glimmers of reality, he had expected her to storm over to his desk and demand that Severus Snape be taught the decorum expected in a Staff Meeting. No, instead the witch had hovered behind Flitwick, letting him take the lead as they both checked on the boy. She had even conjured a blanket for Severus, a rather protective gesture towards a man whose numerous heated arguments with her were the very stuff of Hogwarts legends.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore understood Severus Tobias Snape far better than the boy could ever realize. He comprehended the spiritual cost for a lonely boy to turn his back on friends and the devastating horror of discovering trusted souls were foul and corrupted beyond redemption. Because he had lived through a similar situation after all, and Albus knew the price. It had taken Albus too long to confront his one time friend after he realized the ugly truth about Gellert Grindelwald... and in that time, far too many innocent people had died because he had done _**nothing**_.

If he had only been as brave as Severus, perhaps his own life would have been... different.

Perhaps Ariana…. No… he would not allow himself to think of that. He needed his wits about him, needed to be sharp and clear thinking, not sorrowing and maudlin.

But even the bravest man could shatter, especially if his support system was lacking. Albus was growing more and more uneasy about Severus Snape's intense reliance on Filius, and the Hogwarts Head Master disliked the fact that he was the one responsible for that particular dependency.

Having Filius mentor the lad had seemed like a perfect solution to the thorny problem of soothing an understandably worried Hogwarts staff and calming a reformed Death Eater who was the knife's edge of sanity. Filius was composed, not prone to panicking, possessed a good heart and was possibly the only staff member who would be willing to give Severus Snape a fair chance.

And yes, Filius Flitwick had been one of the three staff members currently at Hogwarts who was stronger in magic than Severus Snape.

As Head Master, he wasn't supposed to think like that.

**_Cold. Calculating. Measuring. _**

Each student should be accepted on their own merits, and encouraged to excel as much as they were capable of doing. He wasn't supposed to weigh each student's magical strength, estimate their knowledge and willingness to experiment in order to estimate a threat level.

But he did, he had done so and he would continue to do so until he breathed his last. And when Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore weighed and measured Severus Snape's ability, his thirst for knowledge and seasoned it with a deep concern about how fragile the boy's grip on his sanity was, his only choice for the boy's guardian and executioner had been Filius Flitwick.

Because if the boy went mad, and turned on everyone at Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall didn't possess the sheer cold-blooded pragmatism needed for a Final Strike.

Filius Fitwick did.

And Filius Flitwick having made that terrible decision once before in the bloody corridors of a magic school overrun by insurgents, would not lightly make that choice again. Certainly the decision would not be made in a fit of pique over Severus Snape's irascible nature.

Again, unlike Minerva McGonagall.

During one of their fiery arguments, his brother Aberforth had called him manipulative, accusing him of treating people as though they were chess pieces.

His astute brother was in fact, both quite correct and absolutely incorrect. In some ways, Aberforth was a far better man that Albus could ever hope to be... except for Aberforth's rather bizarre fascination for goats.

Albus Dumbledore did manipulate those around him. Unlike Horace Slughorn, he pulled at strings and pushed at events not to promote his own influence, but towards what he defined as the Greater Good. But his shenanigans and manipulations weren't being done on a chess board with just so many predestined movements. A rook and a knight each had their set ways of moving across the board, and you couldn't change the way they moved, no matter how much you wished.

No, he was playing a game of Go, with each carefully placed stone creating an almost infinitesimal way of winning... or losing everything. The playing board wasn't a mere 19X19 square, but a game board encompassing the entire world.

Each white stone was placed deliberately to counter and contain a black stone that Tom Riddle placed so uncaringly and recklessly. For Albus, each stone was a person, a friend, whose death would weigh on his already heavily burdened conscience. For Tom Riddle, people were merely game pieces to be sacrificed toward the final goal.

And Severus Snape was a gray marker.

In traditional Go, there were no gray playing pieces. They were either white or black, but not so in this game. So much heavily depended on that one gray piece, the boy could be swayed either way, and the entire game would be in turmoil. He had placed the white playing piece for Filius next to the gray marker that represented Severus and so he had hoped that Filius would help Severus develop more alliances... _**friendships**_… among the white markers.

Instead, the boy had bonded too strongly with Filius, and Flitwick, still traumatized by Mumbai and seeing in Severus an opportunity to save a student, had not discouraged the relationship.

The white and gray playing pieces were almost completely surrounded by black, and it was highly possible that in a few short moves, both men would be surrounded by the darkness and removed from play.

And now other hidden players were placing their markers on the board.

A pink stone was in play and the effects of Dolores Umbridge were now commencing to ripple across the board. Who was she playing for? Herself? Most certainly! Fudge? Perhaps, but why did he sense the sewer like taint of Tom Riddle in her all too bright smile?

Whenever he studied the mental game board, all he saw was far too few white markers, lost among the black markers. Bloody, bloody hell! They weren't game pieces though, they were _**people**_!

Remus Lupin, alone among the werewolves, Hagrid with the giants, Bill Weasley and the goblins.

A few brave, shining souls, all alone in the night.

Harry Potter.

He had turned his back on the boy, hoping to deflect Riddle's growing interest in Harry by his apparent disinterest in Harry. How Albus hoped and prayed that Harry's friends and surrogate family would be enough.

It was time for his move, and Tom was growing impatient with his wool gathering. So regretfully, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore placed his fingers on the white marker that represented Minerva McGonagall, and slid it toward Filius Flitwick and Severus Snape. It moved her closer to Tom Riddle, yet her presence strengthened the Filius-Severus alliance.

It was... the Unholiest of Trinities, an alignment so full of potential that even he was uncertain of all its possible ramifications.

He looked up when he heard fidgeting and he saw that both Filius and Minerva were in front of his desk. Though to be completely honest, he barely saw the diminutive Flitwick's shock of black hair over his desk.

"Take a seat, please. It is time to talk about important issues, my friends. But first, may I offer you a sherbet lemon?"  
_  
_It must be his imagination, but when the Instructors took their seats, he believed he heard Tom Riddle cursing as he reviewed the latest game move. And Albus Dumbledore tried hard not to smile, but he knew that he failed.

_Your turn, Tom.  
_

* * *

"What happened?" Albus questioned. "Feel free to speak. Severus will sleep until I inform Fawkes to wake him."

Neither witch nor wizard said anything, but instead they just glanced at each other, and then looked at Albus. The two of them looked like nothing more than two embarrassed Prefects caught snogging in the corridors and sent to the Head Master's office for the speech about **_Expected Proper Behavior_**. So, having had to mouth several decades worth of platitudes about Proper Behavior to teenage miscreants, Albus knew perfectly well how to get them to spill their guts.

He just beatifically smiled, and said not a word.

For good measure, he didn't even endeavor to hide his enjoyment of their discomfort.

One could hear the ticking of his clock in the silence of the room.

Let them focus on the loud, ticking beats... ten...nine...eight...

And they disappointed him not. Between their guilty consciences, the beating of the tell-tale clock and his obvious amusement, the mischief makers always cracked.

Three... two... one...

"It's _**my**_ fault," Minerva and Filius both said in perfect unison.

Albus peered over his half moon glasses, giving them the mandatory Head Master's stern glare of disapproval before he ruined the effect by chuckling. The two of them _**DID**_ sound like naughty Prefects! He held up his hand to silence their protestations.

"So far three people have claimed to be at fault for Severus' behavior today, and all three of them are currently in the room. Therefore I feel it behooves me to also state that I am **_also _**at fault for Severus' behavior today. "

Filius and Minerva were both utterly startled by that statement, and were not quick enough to school their features otherwise.

"Filius, as of this moment, Severus can no longer frequent the brothels of Knockturn Alley. Do you wish me to tell him?" Albus questioned.

"I will. I'll see if there's something I can do for him…" Filius paused for a moment, intent only on the problem at hand.

Minerva McGonagall giggled. Filius was confused for only a moment by her laughter before he turned pink and nearly fell out of his chair. Luckily, Minerva was blessed with lightning fast reflexes as she saved Filius from a rather nasty and embarrassing fall.

"Minerva McGonagall!" Filius squeaked. He was rather mortified as he had just realized anew that Minerva had a very dirty mind. "You saw what happened in the Staff Room, and you know that I refused him."

Minerva stopped giggling in mid-chuckle and immediately settled down, looking suitably chastened.

_**Fascinating. Filius had obviously made Minerva privy to the reasons behind part of Severus' unconventional behaviors.**_

Albus quickly questioned Filius, "Filius? I didn't realize he made you that offer also. You never mentioned it to me."

"Yes," Filius admitted slowly. "He has offered… numerous… times… I refused every single advance, Albus. It is fortunate that you told me about his little idiosyncrasies. The first time I just ignored what he was offering, as I was rather curious how far he'd take it. He went... quite... far... as he was absolutely frantic to get back into my good graces. We discussed the matter in depth, and Severus knows that I will not accept that particular type of apology. It's just every now and then when Severus gets exceedingly rattled or uncertain, he reverts back."

"He's too dependent on you, Filius." Albus stated it as fact, not coloring his comment with any hidden meaning. He would not chastise Filius for the way in which the relationship between the two men had developed.

The Charms Instructor sighed and nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes. He is. But I took him on, willingly, Albus. It's just now... I'm getting old, Albus. I discussed the matter further with Minerva, and I've decided that it won't work with the two of them...But never fear, Albus, I will continue to look after him."

"I have to disagree, Filius," Albus interrupted. "Do you remember what happened the last time he returned from a Dark Revel? You needed help then, Filius, and I wasn't available. You need to bring Minerva into the circle of people Severus _**must**_ trust."

"What happened?" Minerva questioned. "Was the boy injured?"

Filius shook his head. "No, no, no. It was just I couldn't get him into bed. He was completely out of it, and I couldn't lift him by himself. He ended up sleeping on the floor that night."

"Lift? You tried to physically lift Servus into bed? Why couldn't you use… _**magic**_…?" Minerva tried to understand why the diminutive Flitwick, who knew every charm ever created besides inventing most of them, hadn't merely flicked and swished his wand to put the boy to bed. From the looks on the two men's faces, she was missing something painfully obvious.

"When Severus returns from one of his trips, he is tetchy and super sensitive to magic. If you use any magic on him, he instinctively reacts in a defensive manner. The first and only time I used magic on Severus, it was to heal an injury. Severus freaked out and bounced me off the wall. I broke three ribs, Minerva, but I never told him because he had become completely undone in his fear that he _**had**_ hurt me. It took me _**hours**_ to calm the boy down. Plus it was my fault; I should have been ready with a counter spell to cushion the impact. It's not easy being his keeper, Min. **_Constant Vigilance_**!"

Filius banged his tiny fist on Dumbledore's desk in a fair impersonation of Alastor Moody and Fawkes chirruped a soft warning.

"Oops, too loud. So sorry, Fawkes!"

"Minerva…" Albus began.

"No, you said you'd agree with my decision on this, Albus." Filius interrupted. "I made a mistake; I don't believe that bringing Minerva into this situation will work. Severus is too volatile to be handed off to Minerva like a brightly wrapped Christmas package."

The two men glared at each other. Filius being particularly eagle like in his stare while Albus was being rather Phoenix like in his. The testosterone filled stare down would continue until one of the wizards blinked, and she was damn sure that they had both casted the No Blink Spell.

Men! They were little boys, just with bigger wands!

She waved her hand into the middle of their visual battlefield, deliberately breaking their concentration. Both men rapidly blinked, and turned towards her.

"I'm willing to try, Filius. But you know that Severus and I are not friendly, I just want to know why you originally thought of me."

Filius turned pink even as he said something very quickly and under his breath.

"Beg your pardon?" Minerva questioned.

"I thought it would work… because you're on good terms with all your former lovers, Min." Filius slowly admitted. "Lupin. Moody. Kettleburn, before and after he lost his legs..."

"Kettleburn?" Albus inserted, obvious in wanting confirmation of that particularly tasty tidbit. "Before and _**after**_?"

"The women of the faculty had an interesting going away party for Dragomir. Got him drunk and wore him out in bed," Filius patiently explained to a rather incredulous Albus. Counting off on his small fingers, Filius began listing the various women involved, "Aurora, Pomona, Poppy, Charity, Bathsheba, Rolanda…"

"Rolanda?" interrupted Albus.

"Rolanda. Rumor has it that the farewell was her idea," Filius snickered.

"Rolanda Hooch?" Albus repeated, as it was apparent that even the all knowing Albus Dumbledore didn't comprehend everything his staff was doing behind his robes.

"Yes, Rolanda… along with Min and Sybil."

"Sybil Trelawney?" Albus interjected. "Sybil _**TRELAWNEY**_?"

Filius Flitwick snapped his fingers at Albus like he was a daydreaming first year, and his tone was brusque. "Yes, Sybil Trelawney is apparently quite the wild cat, Albus as it seems that she likes far more than crystal balls. Now, moving on with the discussion I was _**attempting**_ to have with Minerva… can you get your mind out of the gutter, Albus? We're discussing Severus Snape, not the rather tawdry sex lives of your female faculty members."

Albus Dumbledore was, for quite possibly for the first time in all of recorded history, at a loss for words. Perhaps it was the mental image of Sybil Trelawney lost in orgasmic rapture that had stilled his tongue, or perhaps, more likely, he was worried that if he spoke again he'd miss the next tawdry tidbit about the Hens of Hogwarts.

"As I was saying, Min, you are on good terms with all your former lovers," Filius explained. "That's not always easy to accomplish."

"You make me sound like a tramp. I don't have that many notches on my bed posts," sniffed Minerva McGonagall.

"No… I never inferred that. It's just that…" Flitwick paused. "You're a healer, Min. Not a physical healer like Poppy is, but spiritually, emotionally, psychically, you ARE a healer. Alastor, Remus, Dragomir, myself? All soul weary and spirit battered men, longing for a little taste of self-peace. You're a balm to men like me. I'm a better man for being your lover for all those years, Min."

Filius and Min turned toward an incredulous Albus and they both stated in unison.

**_"Yes_**, Albus, we _**were**_ lovers for _**six**_ years and you _**never**_ noticed."

A rather surprised Albus rubbed his head as that tidbit appeared to be entirely _**Too Much Information**_ for him to process. After he finished massaging his temples to let that tidbit enter his weary brain, he sighed. Albus looked hesistant when he began to speak.

"That's the reason why you thought of Minerva? That's a very good reason why _**not**_ to have chosen Minerva. I can say no more."

"Albus, I know how Severus feels about Minerva. I've known for years, Albus. Min's aware also. The issue right now is… Severus knows that Minerva is aware of his feelings toward her. For someone like Severus, who is rather… chary of trusting people, it's an explosive situation," Filius explained.

"That's why he made the comment about the whores," Minerva inserted. "I believe it was directed towards me, as I was not very sympathetic to him when he revealed his true feelings."

"You weren't compassionate?" Albus questioned. "I find that hard to believe, Minerva. Almost as difficult as I find it to believe that Severus willingly mentioned his feelings toward you."

"I pretended that the lad was joking," Minerva explained. It wasn't the complete truth but she wouldn't tell Albus everything. "Don't look at me like that. I truly believed that it would save face, Albus."

The three sat in silence for a bit, each trapped in their own thoughts. At last, Albus broke the silence.

"He'll be waking soon. I'll speak to the three of you then, but I must insist, Filius, that Minerva be brought in as part of Severus' Inner Circle. I do not care what you have to do, Minerva, but I need Severus Snape to have more than just Filius to depend upon."

Minerva opened her mouth to protest, and Albus silenced her with a sharp gesture of his hand.

"The boy should not sleep on the floor, Minerva, just because Filius can not physically put him to bed. The road Severus Snape walks is onerous and full of pain. We need to give him what small kindnesses we can for that random act may make the difference. Small acts of compassion may not seem that much to you, Minerva, but without them, we are no better than Voldemort."

"Filius, I must regretfully ask you to promote this idea to Severus. The time is fast approaching where I may no longer be at Hogwarts. Dolores Umbridge is dangerous, Filius. What will happen to the boy if you're _**not**_ here, Filius?"

Filius appeared old, weary and defeated, and Albus remembered for the first time in a very long time, how old Filius Flitwick truly was. A very ingenious idea began to formulate in Albus' mind.

"I'll give the two of you a project to work on together, Minerva. It will be for reviewing the current curriculum of the school. No, Filius, you will not sit on the committee. It is long past the time where you need to be present to moderate his behavior. I have every faith that you will handle this situation properly, Minerva. Filius, would you please wake the lad."

* * *

For once, Severus Snape was enjoying his dreams. He was young again, free from emotional and physical pain and he was in high spirits. Lily's parents had invited him to tag along with Lily and Petunia as they went to the zoo. It was an exceedingly odd zoo, full of animals both Muggle and Magical. There was even a Phoenix that followed him as he went to the different exhibits. The Phoenix was flying free, and no one seemed to notice it.

Very strange, he thought. One would think that a bright scarlet bird with golden tail feathers would attract some interest in a zoo like this. It must have escaped from one of the displays. After all, Phoenixes weren't common every day birds like ravens, crows and owls.

"Lily? Do you see the bird?" Severus asked. He directly pointed at the showy Phoenix.

The Phoenix gave him a sly wink with one bright black eye, and Severus shook his head. Birds weren't supposed to act like they understood you.

"What bird? I don't see any birds, Sev," Lily informed him. "Let's go look at the griffons, Sev! I'll race you?"

She ran then, and like always, he gave her a head start so she'd win. When Lily won their games, she was very cheerful and he really enjoyed it when Lily was happy. She was his best and well... his _**only **_friend, and he wanted to give her something... but letting her win their games was all he could do. After a few moment, he started running, so Lily wouldn't win by THAT much. While he wanted her happy, Severus didn't want to lose too badly.

Behind him, the Phoenix took flight, shadowing his race through the zoo as he tried to catch up with Lily's laughter. Running far too quickly, he turned a corner, slipped and nearly fell arse over tit into a display. A man with an eagle's face and wings stared back with a haughty look. The bird man put down the book he was reading, opened his beak and squawked his annoyance at Severus' clumsiness.

"What are you? I don't remember reading about you in the book by Newt Scamander," Severus asked, with all the single-mindedness of a young child. "You're _**not**_ supposed to exist if you're _**not**_ in the book!"

With a long suffering sigh, as though he dealt with far too many children every day that asked the same question, the bird man pointed at the display plate.

_**GARUDA.**_

_**A Garuda is the mortal enemy of Nāgas. **_

"Garuda? What's a Garuda?" Severus asked. "Well, besides you!"

The bird man opened his mouth, and Severus was surprised when the bird man spoke with the voice of Filius Flitwick.

"Sev? Would you mind waking up?"

Snape woke then, and Filius was smiling down at him. Fawkes gave a happy chirp and crawled off his belly. That explained the Phoenix... he had fallen asleep while scratching Fawkes so naturally he had dreamt about the bird.

"Sleep well, lad? No bad dreams I hope?"

"I had weird dreams, Filius, but they weren't bad. There was a Phoenix…and something called a Garuda," Severus admitted as he sat up and stretched like a cat. He felt remarkably refreshed after his cat nap, as though he had slept for an entire day. "I've never heard of a creature called a Garuda before."

Filius' smile faded slightly, but quickly returned to full force. "Then how did you know it was a Garuda, Sev? If you don't know what one is?"

"The Garuda put down the book he was reading and he pointed at the display plaque. He seemed rather put off that I didn't know what he was."

That response earned an amused chuckle from Filius. Severus arched an eyebrow at Filius, and tried to explain further, knowing and accepting that it sounded quite silly but still trying to explain. "It was a dream, Filius. It's not supposed to make any sense, but he was reading a book and…."

* * *

The three House Heads were in front of the Head Master's desk. Filius Flitwick had deliberately taken the middle seat to separate Severus and Minerva. Albus Dumbledore smiled brightly at the three, which just made them even more nervous. It was times like this that Albus rather enjoyed being Head Master, as it was just too pleasurable watching these three proud wizards and witch wiggle in their seats like misbehaving first years.

"The three of you are currently on probation. Dolores Umbridge asked me to speak to the three of you regarding this. I assured her that I would discuss your probationary status with you."

He paused before continuing.

"Know this; I have the utmost faith in you. Your teaching methods are sound, though Severus' has been declared excessively traumatic by last ten graduating classes. There are no other instructors, be they alive or dead, that I would prefer to have teaching our students during these momentous times. I just ask that whatever you do, that you be _**careful**_ with Dolores Umbridge."

The three of them were straight faced, but their eyes had moved ever so minutely during that last sentence. If someone didn't know them as well as Albus did, that small movement would have gone unnoticed. But he knew them very well, and that uncontrollable jerk screamed that they were up to something.

Merlin's Bloody Beard. The three of them were about to lead the school in an Insurrection against Dolores Jane Umbridge. It did his heart good to know that Dolores was in for a very rough time. Knowing the Unholy Trinity, they would be pretty damn creative in their harassment.

So Albus decided to add for good measure.

"And I don't need to warn you, but whatever you're planning, _**do not get caught!**_"

The three of them said not a word; instead all three of them just looked at him with identical mixtures of hurt innocence and confusion that he'd dare think such things bout them.

He was close to laughing, as he had never been prouder of his staff than at that very moment. So Albus quickly turned away from them and stared out the window of his office until he composed himself.

"That is all for you, Filius. You're dismissed. Minerva and Severus, I need to speak to you regarding another issue."

* * *

It took a few minutes for Filius to leave as Severus noticed that Flitwick was limping. Only after numerous assurances that he possessed plenty of lumbago potion, did Filius Flitwick manage to escape the room via the floo.

"Now, Severus and Minerva. I have a small project for you to work on together. It will be short and hopefully, relatively painless."

Albus deliberately ignored Severus' muttered comments about having heard that one before.

"I advised Filius that you two will be working on a project regarding the school curriculum. That, alas, is a lie. As you are well aware, Dolores Umbridge only decided to put Filius on probation due to his Goblin ancestors. She was unable to state so directly on his probation papers due to the Anti-Discrimination Act of '63 which ensured Filius Flitwick and others like him are classified as human rather than cross-breeds. We need to remind Dolores Umbridge that while Filius is small of physical stature, he is of legendary standings outside these Halls."

"How are you planning on accomplishing this, Head Master?" Severus purred.

"That's where you two come in," Albus said. "As you two are his closest friends here at Hogwarts, I am quite sure that you will do everything in your power to remind Dolores Umbridge that Filius Flitwick is still a force with which to be reckoned."

Minerva bit back a groan as Albus' eyes were twinkling merrily. That was NEVER a good sign.

"It's Filius' 181st birthday this October 17. You'll be having a surprise tea for him and you will be inviting a few of Filius' close friends to Hogwarts on October 5. It's a Hogsmeade weekend, and that will allow most of the instructors to be free to join the tea. I've prepared a small list of people for you to invite."

He handed both instructors a bundle of parchment. Minerva swallowed and very nonsocial Severus looked physically ill.

"Bloody hell, Albus. This isn't an invitation list, it's a bloody invasion!" Severus yelped.

Minerva had to agree wholeheartedly as she flipped through the parchment.

"There's over a hundred names here, Albus," she protested.

"Then I don't need to remind you that time is of the essence, so you need to immediately start contacting them. You'll need to check each invitees' dietary requirements. Some won't eat meat, others won't eat pork and some… like the Americans… are merely content as long as the beer is cold and the pizza is warm."

Albus paused, inwardly delighting over how flummoxed Minerva and Severus were by this assignment.

Sometimes, it was good to be the Head Master.

He shuddered dramatically.

"_**Cold**_ beer! What savages!"


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer.**_ Not my characters. Not OP/HBP/DH compliant. Thanxs for reading.

When we last left 2/3rd of the Unholy Trinity, Albus Dumbledore had just informed them they were throwing a surprise party for Filius Flitwick. Will Minerva and Severus learn to work together? More importantly, will Filius Flitwick just hex the bloody lot of them when he finds out?

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was a certifiable nutter who had gone completely and utterly astray in his head. The Head Master was howling at the moon mad, absolutely positively barking bonkers. In all probability, he and Lupin, howled lupinian duets together every full moon. Those were the kindest thoughts that Severus Snape currently held for the Head Master of Hogwarts who was gleefully detailing Filius Flitwick's surprise party with all the joy of a child given his first broomstick. 

"There's no way Filius Flitwick will desire this… _**insanity**_." Severus fruitlessly protested, knowing that there was no way one sane voice would stop the Hogwarts Hurricane known as Albus. "Inviting one hundred and twenty five…guests!"

"One hundred and eighty one guests actually," Albus cheerfully inserted, his blues eyes twinkling as he was highly amused. "One for each year."

"You expect us to contact all one hundred and eighty ones names on this list, Albus? And get them here in _**two**_ weeks? Do you realize that some of these wizards are located… in _**TIBET**_? The _**Colonies**_?" Minerva questioned in a rather strained tone. "There's a rather large _**OCEAN**_ between us and the Yanks, you do _**realize**_ that?"

It was quite reassuring; Severus reflected, that Minerva McGonagall was also loudly voicing her doubts about Albus Dumbledore's sanity. The witch's Scottish brogue was in full force, and she sounded thisclose to delivering a dozen, mewling kittens then and there in the middle of Albus' office. That hyperbole was exceedingly appropriate for a catty Scottish witch who slinked around Hogwarts as a feline in her spare time, Severus proudly decided, so he gave himself one point… no… two points… on his mental chalkboard for the use of a witty adynaton to score on Minerva. As he currently had a major deficit of points in their verbal war, Severus would take every point he could... and then steal what he didn't earn.

"Minerva, you are quite correct. Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana." Albus stated that nonsensical dribble in the zealous tone of a prophet speaking to his happy, clappy band of devotees.

Severus and Minerva unwillingly glanced at each other, obviously confused in what Albus meant, and speculating if the other victim understood him. It was not reassuring in the slightest that Minerva was just as confounded as he was. The explanation that perhaps he was still quite drunk from Pomona's punch came to his desperate mind as Merlin knew that he, Severus Snape, was neither happy nor clappy.

_**Yes.**_ That would explain EVERYTHING. Waking up in bed with Minerva complete with not one, but _**three**_ kisses. Dreams of Lily complete with the strange book-reading Half-Man, Half-Eagle who hated snakes… and who in all probability disliked the House Head of Slytherin purely on principle. A surprise party, for a man who most assuredly wouldn't want it, hosted by the most socially inept person to ever step foot in Hogwarts.

YES! That was the answer! Severus was still quite drunk and he was sleeping it off. Yes, this was just a nightmare and all nightmares would eventually end, even one as horrific as this. There was no bloody way in hell that Albus Dumbledore would have him hosting a surprise party. He had fallen asleep on the couch in Filius' suite, and he would wake up soon. Filius would gently mock him because Sev had no head for the demon brew, and then offer him a cuppa.

Deliberately, Severus tapped his long fingers on his leg. He felt the sensation, and he knew that he was not having a nightmare.

No, there was no doubt about it, Severus T. Snape was awake.

And he was in _**HELL**_.

Albus, being an instructor through and through, realized that Severus Snape was not paying the slightest bit of attention to his words of wisdom, so Albus spoke _**louder**_.

"In other words, time: how brief and fleeting your allotment of it."

It was childish and petty, but Severus Snape gave Albus his best impersonation of Neville Longbottom, complete with the slack jaw and out of focus eyes. The blue eyes ceased their cheerful twinkling, instead turning a deep, angry storm gray and Severus shifted uneasily in his chair.

It would be wise for him not to press his luck with Albus... not after today's events.

Actually, it would be best for Severus to never anger Albus. Without Albus' considerable backing, he'd be thrown to the wolves. Then his death would be truly painful, his throat being ripped out, a knife to the back or a slow, lingering, excruciating death in a dark alley.Or a nice long restful stay in Club Azkaban.

"In other words, you will need to get the letters out by tomorrow morning at the latest, Severus and Minerva. As it is a Herculean task, I am prepared to roll up my sleeves and help you in this noble endeavor."

With a flourish, Albus Dumbledore rolled up his sleeves and waved his wand. Several realms of parchment appeared from the ether and zoomed over to the Head Master's desk. In their eagerness for flight, the parchments nearly clocked Minerva in the back of her head, but she, having far too much experience with St. Albus the Nutter, leapt out of their way in the nick of time. A quill made of a large, scarlet feather jumped to attention and quickly hopped over to the parchments, even as a small bottle of ink slowly wobbled its precarious way across the large desk.

_**Bloody showoff,**_ Severus thought darkly. _**Oh yes, let's have a bouncing ink bottle, a potential for disaster if there ever was one. But since I'm bloody Albus Dumbledore, I have no fear! **_

"Dear Noble… Fill in the name of the guest now," Albus ordered the quill, which bobbed its scarlet feather to show its comprehension. "Make sure you use the proper term of respect as some of the wizards and witches are not from civilized Britain, so some of the honorifics are rather unusual."

The scarlet quill appeared quite scandalized that it was writing to _**savages**_, and Severus Snape knew that he had gone completely round the bend. In fact he had gone so far round the bend that he was now in the very spot from which he had started. He and _**Minerva**_ were now in charge of a surprise tea with one hundred and eighty odd invitees for a man that would most likely dive under the table in complete embarrassment when everyone yelled, "Huzzah!"

And why was he involved in this madness?

Because Albus Dumbledore had claimed that Filius was feeling more than a wee bit downcast over his probationary status. Severus hadn't been quite sure about the sincerity of that claim, as he hadn't remembered hearing so much as a pip from Filius about his looming desires to fling himself over one of the bulwarks at Hogwarts. But Severus was the very first person to admit that he wasn't very in tune with other's emotional states, plus he had been industriously drinking and whoring his pain away these last few days. Severus was capable of telling when someone was throwing an eppy, as it was usually directed at him, but the nuances of the far more subtle emotions? He was clueless, as he was Nobby No-Mate.

The Potions Master had lost the battle and then the war when he had hesitantly asked Minerva if Filius truly was depressed. To ask the witch something he should have noticed was appalling. To have her confirm that Filius Flitwick was out of sorts was far, far worse. He emotionally withdrew, sternly chastising himself that he should have bloody noticed that Filius was in a funk. No... He hadn't noticed as he had been energetically plowing the whores in Knockturn Alley.

Naturally, Albus had noticed his emotional weakness and mental confusion and the wizard had pounced like the Bloody Gryffindor lion. And not happy with merely getting his pound of flesh, Albus was _**insisting**_ that he work with Minerva on his grand idea.

_**Kill me. Kill me NOW!**_ Severus pleaded to the uncaring universe, and the indifferent universe declined to cooperate. The Potions Master would much prefer to deal with an enraged Bellatrix LeStrange rather than a pissed Minerva McGonagall. At least his death at Bellatrix's hands would have been quick because Beatrix was a bloody nutter. She would unintentionally kill him and then scream and pout because she couldn't bring him back for more misery. Minerva, Minerva McGonagall would _**savor**_ every ounce of pain and humiliation that she'd wring from his greasy carcass. The witch would then hoist his dead, broken body into a place of honor in the Great Hall as the unwritten declaration that one never fucked with Minerva McGonagall and lived to brag about it.

"Now where was I? Greetings and Salutations. I am honored to extend to you an invitation to celebrate…." Albus began even as the scarlet quill began energetically scratching away at the parchment.

* * *

The witch and wizard then went to the Hogwart's owlery clutching two boxes of invitations where they then sent one hundred or so of the Hogwarts owls to various parts of the world. Minerva didn't make the effort speak to Severus, as the boy was in a fowl… foul mood. It was a long period of silence broken by terse commands, as each industriously found an owl suited to carry an invitation a particular distance and then gave the owl its instructions. But when the boy hissed at a misbehaving owl and the owl almost immediately screeched in pain, Minerva finally had enough. 

"Severus, I'll send the letters," she insisted.

"Damn thing bloody bit me," Severus snapped, as he showed her his bleeding war wound. "I hate bloody owls."

She gave him a long, measuring look, decided that Poppy wouldn't have to amputate his finger, counted his teeth, estimated the depths of the bags under his eyes and then mentally weighed him. The boy appeared on the verge of physical exhaustion, and Minerva mentally sighed. It was her fault that Severus was out of sorts... well... that the boy was _**more**_ out of sorts than his norm, and that he was determined to show not weakness in front of HER.

Such a thick-headed, obstinate, prideful, forlorn, smitten little boy who had decided to put her on a pedestal that Minerva didn't want, and certainly didn't deserve.

"Let me finish this, Severus. I'll take the rest to the Hogsmeade Owl Office. We can't send the invitations to some of these places using regular Owl Mail." The witch attempted to keep her voice soothing and free from censure.

Like she feared, Snape reacted badly, refusing to just give her the bloody invitations. No, the wizard doggedly _**insisted**_ on finishing his half of the invitation because bloody Albus Dumbledore had instructed him to do it, and so he would. Then Severus asserted that he would walk to the bloody Owl Office with her.

They were about to exit Hogwarts when she heard the dreaded sound of Umbridge.

"Hem hem."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Severus stiffen, and she had to admit that she felt compassion for the maddening, pain in the arse Potions Master. He was forced to deal with her AND Umbridge. What an awkward situation for such a private soul.

"Are we going somewhere?" Dolores questioned in her little girl voice.

Severus, quick witted, acid tongued, Master of Intimidation with only a Single Word, beat Minerva to the punch.

"No, _**WE**_ are not going anywhere," Severus informed the High Inquisitor, stressing the word "We".

"Silly me, I saw you just now and thought that you might be _**leaving**_ Hogwarts without informing me. Perhaps you were off to see some of your delightful lady friends, Severus, for some... _**conversation**_? Though from what I hear, they don't talk much, do they?" Umbridge simpered and then laughed her chilling little girl laugh. "Silly me, I forgot. They don't have to talk. They just have to be flat on their backs while you plow them."

Severus tuned to face Dolores, and Minerva put her hand on his arm. She wanted to stop him from answering in kind, but instead of calming him, her physical contact seemed to further anger the boy. The Slytherin was livid and his voice was ice when he answered Dolores.

"Actually, Dolores, my lady friends are quite _**energetic**_. Alas, I've not heard the same... criticism... about you."

Oh bloody, bloody hell. Severus did _**not**_ just give Dolores Umbridge the once over and then roll his eyes in disgust. Damn the man, he had! She wanted to cackle out loud because Snape's disgusted look was that comical, but Dolores' face had begun to swell and turn a startling shade. Umbridge was about to inhale to draw breath for a tongue lashing of major proportions when Minerva decided to interrupt.

Last thing she wanted was Dolores' blood spilled in the middle of the hallway.

Well scratch that, she wanted Dolores' blood spilled but _**NOT**_ by Severus. A random freak accident with a stray, angry dragon would do just nicely. Alas, Hagrid was away on a mission to contact the Giants for Albus, so that meant the odds of an accidental dismemberment by a rogue magical animal in the Halls of Hogwarts were significantly less than they normally would be. Minerva never thought that she'd regret the fact that Wilhelmina Grubby-Plank ran a very tight ship, but she was now ruing the day that Albus had hired Wilhelmina.

"Dolores, you know full well that Severus was at the apothecary today. Did you bother to even look at his receipt? Your paranoid insistence on believing that Severus Snape was elsewhere led you to embarrass yourself in front of the staff. I suggest that you learn something from that particular lesson. Dolores, Professor Snape and I are heading to Hogsmeade to use the Owl Office. Albus Dumbledore requested that we mail several letters for him. As he is aware of where we are going, I did not feel it was necessary for you to be informed." Her voice was calm and controlled. She would not lose her temper. She would NOT!

Dolores was like a terrier on the scent of a rat. "You are not using Hogwart's owls? Why?"

Severus remained quiet, and that meant she had to explain.

"You should be receiving your invitation shortly, Dolores. Filius Flitwick is having a birthday soon, and Severus and I decided to throw a surprise get together for him. We're inviting a few of Filius' friends from further away to join us."

That tidbit caused Dolores' eyes to narrow as her one lone brain cell bravely attempted to figure out what the bloody hell that meant. Minerva thought she smelled something burning before Dolores' face revealed her shock. Foreign wizards! Conspiracy! At Hogwarts!

"Minerva, if we do not leave now, we will miss the post," inserted Severus. "We need to make sure that we give enough time for Yuri to get the invitation. I know that he'd be truly disappointed to miss the festivities."

"Yuri?" Dolores questioned, before wrinkling her nose in distaste. "That sounds... _**foreign**_."

"Yes, Yuri Alekseev," Severus patiently confirmed. Well, patiently for Severus meant that he was rolling his eyes at one's obvious stupidity while noticeably wondering how you ever made it to the loo by yourself. "The Mad Russian? The one that took down the rampaging drake in Moscow by _**himself**_? He's been friends with Filius for... fifty, sixty years..."

Minerva tried not to smile, but Yuri Mikhailov Alekseev was the Russian version of "Mad Eye" Moody. Well it wasn't an entirely apt comparison as Yuri still possessed all his original parts, unlike Alastor. Yuri also had a startling tendency to stay in his animagus form as he firmly believed that Russian brown bears were far nicer than most wizards.

"We did remember to inform him not to show up as a bear, correct?" Severus questioned. His voice was dripping in phony concern. "He'll scare Listens-to-Wind if he's a bear. Joseph had a bear encounter during a vision quest. It was exceedingly traumatic..."

Severus was the picture perfect example of innocence, and Minerva had to firmly crush her urge to laugh. Listens-to-Wind was a native of America and he was both a wizard AND a shaman. Plus one hell of a dancer.

Minerva turned to face Severus and she dramatically sighed, "No, Severus. _**You**_ were supposed to tell Yuri."

His black eyes narrowed and the glare he gave her would have scared an entire class of seven years into piddling on themselves. "No, Minerva, I _**specifically**_ remember our agreement. I was to inform Shī _**no**_ dragons, and you know that she'll pout. You agreed to tell Yuri _**no bear**_! Listens-to-Wind doesn't _**like**_ bears! And need I remind you, if Joseph is upset, Ebenezar and Martha will also be on the ... warpath."

She put her hands on her hips, and glared back at Snape. Minerva couldn't quite look the boy in his black eyes, as her stern demeanor would certainly dissolve into giggles. The comment about Shī and her dragons was really rather inspired, as the witch from Taipei was entirely too fond of dragons. It would be just like the eccentric Shī to show up with a baker's dozen of her little fire breathing beauties.

Oh, it was a true shame that Hagrid was still away, as every single foreign wizard and witch had been encouraged to bring their familiars just to rattle Dolores.

If Dolores didn't like bears, she certainly wouldn't like some of the more exotic familiars. Firebirds, griffons, an Occamy, a Runespoor, Joberknolls, a Fwooper, a Demiguise, Crups and a couple of Phoenixes. Oh! And Listens-to-Wind's familiar, the raccoon known as Little Brother.

In the background, she could hear Dolores muttering, "Foreigners! Bears! Dragons! Oh my!"

"We will continue this discussion on the way to the Owl office," inserted Severus. "Dolores."

He nodded his head once, and then turned on his heel, his robes billowing.

How ever did the boy manage to make his robes billow all the damn time, Minerva wondered? Must be magic. Damn him and his longer legs as she had to run to catch up with him. The Slytherin was correct though; they were really cutting it very fine for the post.

* * *

The Potions Master was a man on a mission, which was to get to the bloody Owl Office before it closed. Therefore the very second he was past the well known Hogwarts anti-Apparation barrier, he Disapparated to the Owl Office. There was no need to let Dolores know that he could come and go as he bloody well pleased. Severus wasn't surprised that his landing was rough and he nearly fell to his knees. Truth be told, Severus was delighted that he hadn't splinched himself, as he was really quite exhausted. The momentary burst of energy after his brief nap in Albus' office had quickly been spent in a mad burst of owling invitations, and now it was sheer willpower alone that kept him on his feet. It took a moment for Severus to regain his balance, but he wasn't fast enough, as he heard the tell-tale crack of Minerva Apparating behind him. 

"You could have waited," the witch snapped, as she rushed over to where he was standing.

"Now, Minerva, time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana," Severus retorted.

The witch's annoyed look was worth two... no _**FIVE**_... points, he decided, and so he mentally added them to his total. The score was Minerva McGongall, 5,425,895,124 points to his -2,432,945,142 points, but... he was gaining on her! It might take the rest of his miserable life to even the score, but he _**WOULD**_.

"March over to the post office, Severus," Minerva ordered in her Best Deputy Head Mistress voice, and his feet instinctively obeyed. "In other words, time: how brief and fleeting our allotment of it truly is. Now _**MARCH**_!"

He marched double-time over to the Owl Office, and he pushed his left arm through the closing door, ignoring the rude voice that whined that the Owl Office was now closed. The door slammed shut on his left forearm, and Severus wondered what would have happened if the door was a little heavier. Would the Dark Lord be miffed that he had amputated his forearm halfway through the Dark Mark? The Dark Lord did get a wee bit annoyed at those that had tried to remove the Dark Mark... but... what if it was an accident?

"You're NOT closed," he snarled. "My arm is inside your building."

There was a shrill whine of fear, as one of the employees recognized him, and he was let into the Owl Office. Naturally, Minerva arrived after the dirt had settled, and she appeared calm, cool and collected.

"Now, we need to send these letters overseas, and no expense will be spared to ensure they arrive in a prompt fashion," she regally announced.

Bloody, bloody hell. Everyone was kowtowing to Minerva McGonagall and he was the one that had nearly lost his arm.

_**Only for you, Filius Flitwick. Only for you would I do this.  
**_  
Naturally, since this entire misadventure had been foisted onto his weary shoulders by Dumbledore, it couldn't go smoothly. The Assistant Owl Master and the Owl Mistress required a hushed conference over one of the envelopes he handed to them, even as they cheerily assured _**Minerva**_ that there wasn't a problem. They went to the other room so to consult some mystical object known as the Directory, the results of which caused the postal duo to appear quite confused. Their bewilderment then required the flooing of the retired Owl Head Master of the United Kingdom, where they continued their discussion. At long last the issue was resolved, though the Owl Mistress looked nervous as she reached for her wand. Then she energetically waved her wand at the envelope.

Her magic completed, she then returned to the front counter before she handed the envelope back to Minerva.

To _**Minerva**_. Why the hell could they not give _**him**_ the envelope?

"I'm really quite sorry; Professor McGonagall, but we can't deliver that letter for you."

Severus Snape and Minerva McGongall both looked at the envelope. In bright green ink, the following was stamped.

_**KRITIKA VEERASUNDARI MUKHOPADHYAY, HEAD MISTRESS. C/O INDIA SCHOOL OF MAGIC, WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDY.**_

_**NO SUCH LIVING PERSON KNOWN. NO SUCH ORGANIZATION KNOWN. NO ADDRESS KNOWN.**_

_**We are unable to deliver your mail as addressed. Thank you for using Owl Post! **_

Then the two of them looked at each other, before they turned to face the Owl Mistress.

"What do you bloody mean you can't deliver this?" Severus questioned.

"I looked it up in the Directory. There is no India School of Magic, Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not any more...And Kritika Verisun..."

"Kritika Veerasundari Mukhopadhyay," Minerva stated easily.

"She's been dead for ... seventy odd years. I looked it up in the Directory. She died in the Massacre at the school. They never reopened the school... after it happened." The Owl Mistress' blue eyes filled with tears. "All those poor children!"

The witch and wizard exchanged a meaningful look. If Kritika didn't truly exist, then who the hell had been corresponding with Filius Flitwick for the last twenty years or so?

"Filius..." Severus whispered. "This is completely Filius' masterpiece. He modified a Fidelius Charm, so nobody can find the school. Technically, the school doesn't even exist so you can't owl them. How are we supposed to invite them to this bloody fiasco?"

Naturally, Minerva had complete faith in their fearless leader. "Albus must know a way."

"Need I remind you that he's the one that gave us the address, Minerva!" Severus growled

"I'll handle it," Minerva snapped. "Now why don't you go get some sleep? You're getting cranky, Severus."

* * *

Severus Snape was _**not**_ cranky. 

He was the very picture of good behavior while Minerva McGonagall was a bloody shrew of a hedge witch complete with a bad attitude and a painful case of the bloody piles. He muttered assorted disparaging comments about Minerva McGonagall and her obscene fetish for tartans, uncaring that anyone with three meters of him would hear his comments. As the Potions Master stormed the halls of Hogwarts like an invading army, he failed to notice that even his little Slytherins were running in the opposite direction.

When Severus finally entered the sanctity of his suite, he was surprised to see a dozen or so envelopes on his nightstand. Since none of the envelopes were pink and none of them smelled like Eau de Toad, Severus opened them.

Good bloody lord.

They were confirmations to Filius' little party from most of the Hogwarts staff. Everyone was just so bloody delighted to be invited and each response was brim full of wonderful suggestions. Rolanda recommended using the Quidditch pitch as best place to have the party, Pomona was willing to help and... Albus had sent his confirmation.

The bastard better attend. After all, it was his grand idea. The old goat had even scribbled a note.

_**Severus, I know how truly difficult this will be for you, but it will mean a great deal to Filius. **_

He changed into his bed clothes and then gracelessly collapsed on his bed. Another envelope popped into existence above his head and fell on top of him.

_**Sunday? 2 PM my quarters. FF.**_

Severus scribbled that he'd be delighted and 'magiked' the note back to Filius. Least Filius was still willing to talk to him, so his life wasn't a complete cock up.

Oh such small joys his life was made livable, he blearily thought before he fell asleep.

His dreams were full of nonsense, of Severus chasing after an amused Minerva McGongall who promised him a real kiss if he caught her. He desperately raced through the Labyrinth halls of Hogwarts; never catching so much of a glimpse of her while Fawkes flew overhead. Meanwhile the man with an eagle's head watched from the shadows, and Gardua laughed and laughed, as though it was great sport.

* * *

Severus arrived at Flitwick's quarters a few minutes too early on Sunday. He had sternly warned himself not to appear overeager, to walk slowly and purposely to Filius' rooms but he was still ten minutes early. He had just made the decision to return at a later time, but Rowena popped into the portrait. 

"Severus is here, Filius!" Rowena cheerily exclaimed as she swung open to let him enter.

"Shouldn't you ask him before letting me in?" Severus questioned. What an ill-mannered Portrait!

"Severus, come on in!"

Filius's voice was warm and welcoming, and so Severus entered. He found Filius having a conversation with one of the Hogwart's house elves. The House Elf proudly beamed, bowed and then disappeared.

"Come on, lad. Don't just stand there. Have some tea!" Filius insisted. "I'm guessing that you haven't eaten since Friday night, so you must be starving."

He wasn't hungry, though Filius was quite correct in his belief that Severus hadn't eaten since Friday. But whatever the house elves had prepared smelled quite appetizing, so he'd have a nibble. Just to be polite, nothing more.

"Let me get the game board, Severus. Go ahead, have something!"

* * *

Filius took his time to gather the game board and the various pieces, all the while watching Severus from the very corner of his eye. The boy walked over to where the tea had been set up, and he gingerly uncovered one of the plates. Only by knowing Severus as well as he did, did Filius realized that the boy actually smiled when he recognized what was under the silver cloche. Flitiwck had spent two hours on the bloody menu. Naturally, the boy never mentioned what he liked, claiming that food meant nothing to him as it merely fuel for his body. Filius had to piece it together, trying to remember what Severus had savored, what he had actually taken seconds on. 

Good. The Blushing Bunny had been correct. A purist would be horrified that Filius was serving it at high tea, but Filius did occasionally walk on the wild side. Plus, Filius had an ulterior motive, feed and water the boy, get him comfortable and at ease and then he would push the issue of Minerva.

_**Bloody hell, I hope you don't try to hex me, lad. I'm still faster on the wand then you are. I don't think your pride would like that. Not at all.**_

Filius then joined Severus at the table, and he raised his teacup to his lips. He savored the taste, as there was nothing like a good cuppa. He'd keep the conversation light for now.

* * *

Severus was sitting in a comfortable chair, full, content, peaceful after a delightful, relaxing tea. Filius was setting up the Go gameboard and explaining the various strategies. 

"Go is not the same as Chess. For one thing, Chess is more Western Strategic thinking while Go is more Eastern. You start with an empty game board, and then you build upon it. There are multiple, simultaneous battles that occur that lead to a win based on points. In Chess, whoever checkmates the King wins the game. Go is quite otherwise, Severus. Individuals are only significant as they join or help determine the fate of larger forces, and what those are is worked out only as the game proceeds."

Filius set up various combinations of playing pieces on the board, and explained their strengths and weaknesses.

"A vacant point adjacent to a stone is a liberty for that stone. A unit must have at least one liberty to remain on the board. When a unit is surrounded by opposing stones so that it has no liberties, it is captured and removed from the board."

Severus examined the board, saw a pattern in one play, and then in another. The relationship of the various pieces, of black verses white playing pieces was quite recognizable.  
_**  
Bloody, bloody hell. It's the conflict between Albus and the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord's Forces are concentrated, while Albus' people are scattered haphazardly on the board. But Albus is holding the Dark Lord in check. **_

"Do you play Go with Albus?" Severus carefully asked Filius that, hoping that he was just paranoid.

"On the rare occasion, we play a game. He's too busy these days what with all his various projects. Now, I understand that you and Minerva are working together on the curriculum."

Severus made a non-committal sound, and Filius gave him a very searching look.

"Will you be able to work with Minerva? Now don't get angry with me, I want to know. If you're uncomfortable working with Min, I'll talk to Albus about letting me sit on the committee," Filius explained.

The Potions Master sighed as Filius looked so willing to help him.

"You know perfectly damn well that blessed St. Albus is punishing me for my boorish behavior in yesterday's meeting, Filius. The entire curriculum issue is just a big bag of wank."

"Severus!" Filius laughed. "Such language!"

"I just hope to survive this punishment. I'm not even hoping that my pride remains intact, Filius."

Filius cleaned off the gameboard with a negligent gesture with his wand. He began placing black and white pieces on the board. There was a definite pattern to the placement, and Severus leaned closer to inspect the board.

"Minerva is a very compassionate woman, Severus. I'm sure that whatever happened between you two can be easily mended." Filius assured him.

The Slytherin's response to that comment was a loud snort. Yeah, right. Like bloody hell Minerva would ever forgive him for stealing a kiss.

"You are an optimist, Filius. Sadly, I must disagree."

The Charms Instructor shook his head, and pointed at the gameboard. "Look at this particular pattern. There's a white stone, Severus, surrounded by black."

He peered at the board; saw the one white stone almost completely surrounded by black. Damn him for a maudlin fool, but he felt sorry for that lone white piece, surrounded by wolves.

"Do you recognize that white marker, Severus? That's you, lad." Filius explained. "This is me."

Filius placed a small white stone next to the lone white marker.

"I'm your alliance. But the other side cheats."

Two black stones were placed in rapid succession, and Severus protested when he saw that the two white pieces were about to be taken out of the game.

"You need more than me to rely on. Please, don't get angry with me…" Filius pleaded. His eyes were radiating sincerity, and Severus felt uneasy.

"Never! I'd never get angry with you, Filius. You're my friend," Severus protested. "You're my _**only**_ friend, Filius."

"I spoke to Minerva so I know what really happened. The issue is Albus wants to bring Minerva into this, Sev. He's worried that there's a possibility that in a little while he and I will no longer be here to sustain you."

Severus stood up quickly, nearly knocking over the table with the gameboard. Sev cursed himself for not seeing this coming; Filus had gotten tired of his abuse and was now washing his hands of the greasy git! It always happened. He'd get close to someone, thought he had found a friend, and he'd cock it up good by being a complete arse.

"You wish to get rid of me? You're still angry about yesterday's behavior?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but to his eternal shame, his voice cracked.

He tried to face Filius like an adult, but all he could hear was his father screaming what an utter waste of humanity he was. _**I'm washing my hands of you, boyo. You're an utter arse. Would that I had never fathered a nasty git like you. **_

"No… no… I told Albus and Minerva that I did not believe you would agree." Filius' voice was soothing, and the Charms Instructor made a placating gesture with his hands. "Calm down, lad."

"Minerva _**knows**_?" Severus voiced that before he could bite his tongue. Oh bloody, bloody hell. MINERVA.

"I had to sound her out, lad. I couldn't say yay or nay without talking to her. I couldn't agree to it without knowing how she felt."

"Filius… I know you're still angry with me…" Severus tried to compose himself, but failed.

_**Control your emotions. Discipline your mind. DO not let your emotions control you. **_

"I'm _**not**_ angry, Sev."

If Filius wasn't angry, why did he hear the closet door slam shut? Why did he hear Tobias screaming abuse as he locked the door? Why was he drowning in that overwhelming claustrophobia?

"But please… not Minerva… I beg you… not Minerva…I will do this alone… I can not… face her." He had no pride, so Sev was willing to beg.

Filius appeared saddened, and he again made a placating gesture with his hands.

"Please, sit down, Sev. I'd prefer not to have to crane my neck to talk to you."

He knelt next to Filius' chair so the two of them were eye to eye.

"Thank you, as my neck was beginning to ache something fierce. As I was saying, lad, you shouldn't have to do this alone."

Pride demanded that he answer Filius and attempt to assure his mentor that he could handle it on his own.

"I can do it alone… I've _**always**_ been alone, Filius."

The Charms Master flinched as though Severus had hit him. Merlin's beard, he had hurt Filius!

"Am I _**nothing**_ to you, Severus? Do you trust me so little?" Filius' voice was barely louder than a whisper. "After all this time, you _**still**_ scorn and diminish our friendship?"

Severus leaned over to Filius and kissed him on his cheek. Filius didn't flinch away from his kiss, so Severus continued to softly kiss Filius, knowing that he shouldn't be doing this. This instinctive response always sickened Filius, but Severus didn't know how else to assuage the wizard's anger. Filius would push him away, as had Albus.

Just once, he wished that one of them would take what he was willingly offering. Albus or Filius didn't have to be gentle or worry about his enjoyment. He would willingly give and give of his body to them, the only object of value he still possessed. Possessing a wealth of experience both good and bad, he would ensure that they'd have their gratification.

"No… no… forgive me… I didn't mean it like that… You're _**everything**_ to me… I'm sorry I hurt you…You know I trust you… you can do anything to me… just don't be angry…I'll let you do _**anything**_..." Severus pleaded.

Filius put his small hand over Severus' lips.

"Enough, enough. Merlin's bloody scrote, boy, enough already. Severus, I've told you before; I will not accept what you're offering. To even acknowledge it, would make me no better than those that have abused you. Now, I think I need a dram or two of Glenfiddich 50 Year Old Whisky. I know you don't drink Glenffidich normally, but I'm insisting you have some."

Severus collapsed next to Filius' chair and rested his aching head on his hands. No matter how hard he tried, he always hurt those he loved. Flitwick returned with two glasses and a bottle. The bottle was placed on the table, and Flitiwck offered him a glass. He drank what Filius gave him in one swallow, hoping that the liquor would drown the ache in his heart. It didn't naturally, but he still didn't protest when Filius refilled his glass.

"Savor it, Severus. Don't gulp the Glenfiddich like it was pumpkin juice, lad. Have some respect for it. Haven't I taught you how to appreciate good liquor?"

Severus weakly smiled, and made a noticeable effort. He sniffed the whiskey and appreciated the clear, amber color of the liquor. He took a sip, savored it, swishing it around in his mouth and then swallowed.

"Much, much better, lad. You need to treat your drinks with respect," Filius insisted.

"Even soda with cherry syrup over ice complete with the mandatory umbrella?" Severus asked, as that was Filius' favorite non-alcoholic drink. He had made the mistake of trying it once, and it had left him with a nasty sugar buzz.

Filius laughed. "Yes, even _**that**_. I can't drink like this all the time, else I'd be the Potted Professor. The one bad thing about my size, lad, is that I can't have more than a few drinks. Body weight, you know. Four drinks and I believe that Rolanda Hooch is a femme fatale."

"Well, if you give Rolanda a Beater's bat, I can quite understand calling her a femme fatale," Severus quipped.

That snarky comment caused Filius to laughingly agree with him.

They sat in silence for a bit, each savoring their drink.

"Filius? I gave the Weasley Twins detention for tomorrow night."

"And I should be surprised _**because**_?" Filius prompted.

"I told them to bring their box of mayhem and chaos to our little anti-Umbridge meeting. That box of theirs could single-handedly depopulate the entire school, Filius. They have all sorts of grand ideas, but they're all cocked-up. They've got a vomiting pill that works too well."

"Too well?" Filius asked.

"They can't stop. Well, actually the unlucky vomiters stop after they black out and conk their heads." Severus deliberately made his voice droll. Well, droller than his norm.

Filius laughed, and Severus was able to relax. If Filius was laughing, it meant that their argument had been forgiven.

"Sounds like they need a little help with their enchantments," Filius agreed. "It sounds like they have a little too much Rue in their pills, and need more Aquilegia. But I'm not the Potions Master, Severus."

"Well I was thinking… if say a certain group of Master-Level Wizards and Witches were willing to assist them in their efforts that the group deserves a bit of their profits. Twenty five for each twin, and ten percent for you, Minerva, Pomona, Poppy and me."

Filius roared, and toasted Severus. "I like the way you think, lad. Hogwarts doesn't pay that well after all."


	10. Chapter 10

**_Disclaimer_**. Not my characters. Don't own them. Thanxs for reading. I'm amazed anyone is. :)

Fred and George serve their detention, and realize that they've been outsmarted by the Unholy Trinity.

* * *

Fred and George, George and Fred Weasley, Red Headed Masters of Mayhem and possessing only one brain twixt the two of them, arrived for detention on the very moment they were due. Severus gave them his best intimidating glare and growled, "Where's your deadly box of Mayhem?" 

"We Reducio it," Fred explained.

"So Umbridge wouldn't notice," inserted George.

"Professor Umbridge," Severus reminded them. "Now put it on that table and return it to full size. You will them take your seats where you will write for me until I tell you to stop."

The twins quickly did so, and he handed them both books. "Start writing out potion number seventy three. You will repeatedly write that potion until it sinks into your little empty heads. It may take all evening."

He then turned on his heel and walked away from the boys. He didn't even crack the smallest part of a smile when he heard the twins whisper about WHAT potion they were destined to write for the next thirty minutes. It was an anti-emetic potion and the one that they had thoroughly botched.

"SILENCE!" Severus roared. "Did I give you permission to talk?"

Severus sat at his desk for a few minutes, intently watching the Weasley twins chicken scratch their way through learning the potion when he realized anew that he was hosting the House Heads and Poppy in the dungeon for a meeting. Perhaps he should be a civilized host and offer them something. He snapped his fingers and a bloody House Elf appeared.

"Master Snape is needing something?"

The House Elf was fortunately one he had dealt with before, so he was blessedly quiet and less hysteria prone that most of the House Elves. But what the bloody hell was the House Elf wearing? Was it a tea cozy? And socks? _**SOCKS**_?

"Tea Service for five. Something sweet to nibble on and… a vat of Hot Chocolate, please."

"Dobby is delighted to serve!"

With a crack he was gone. Severus shook his head at the idiosyncrasies of House Elves, and returned to his personal storeroom. There were a few potions that would be necessary for when the Weasley Twins began their little exhibit.

By the time Dobby was back with a few other house elves, loaded down with enough food to feed a dozen or so people, the other instructors had begun to meander in. The twins became paler and paler when they kept noticing the new arrivals. Filius' arrival had them shaking their heads but Minerva McGonagall's regal entrance had them in a state of panic.

"Stop writing," Severus ordered. He flicked his wand and the dungeon door closed with a loud bang. The twins jumped in an all too satisfying way. "It appears that Mr. and Mr. Weasley have been up to no good. _**Shocking**_, I know."

He paused, enjoying twisting the knife ever so slightly.

"Mr. and Mr. Weasely, you will now demonstrate your Wizardly Wheezes for us. I will remind you that you are responsible for cleaning up the mess."

And so the demonstration began.

The Weasely's exhibition went far better than he had anticipated. Filius Flitwick was biting his lip so not to laugh, Poppy looked horrified, Pomona was amazed and Minerva… Minerva was shaking her head in disbelief that her bloody house had produced these two tricksters.

He on the other hand, was quite busy, pouring assorted potions such as the Anti-emetic, the Blood Clotting and Replenishing Potion, the anti-fever potion and many others down their throats while attempting to keep from getting splashed by various body fluids.

But when the twins turned themselves into two human sized, scarlet feathered Canaries after eating a Canary Cream, he had to admit that he had met his match. He was utterly defeated by two Scarlet Canaries.

"Filius? I don't have anything that will change them back. Should we leave them like that? Some may say that it's an improvement."

The two twin birds twittered their annoyance at his rather cavalier attitude and Filius began to laugh. Quietly at first, but soon the diminutive Charms Instructor was roaring so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. Naturally, Minerva whipped out her wand and transfigured them back to normal.

"I think we've put them through their paces tonight," she primly stated.

"But Minerva, they've got _**FIREWORKS**_!" Pomona exclaimed, and Severus marked her as a secret pyromaniac. "I _**love **_fireworks. Severus, can't we see the fireworks? Please?"

"Pomona, I do not believe that Severus will allow us to set off FIREWORKS in his classroom," Minerva retorted.

She was bloody correct. Fireworks would _**NOT**_ be set off in his dungeon!

"We can use the Great Hall," inserted Filius. "We can't shoot them off in the Quidditch pitch, but we can Reducio them and set them off in the Great hall some night. We'll have to keep it quiet."

"Yes, fireworks in the Great Hall must be done quietly," Severus drawled. "We'd hate for the entire school to know that we're setting off fireworks in the Great Hall."

"Silencing spell, Severus. A shield charm, possibly three levels to protect the hall, a dampening spell, fire retardant spell… don't worry, I'll handle it. So, I take it that we five are in agreement on the Weasley's Wizardly Wheezes?" The Senior House Head questioned.

All four teachers and the Medi-witch nodded their heads.

"Oh no, George. We're getting expelled," Fred whispered to his brother.

"Mom will not be happy," George stated the obvious.

"Your products are dangerous, lads. As instructors, we can not let you sell these products to your fellow students as is. Therefore, it behooves us to make them as safe as possible. We'll make suggestions on how to improve your products. In return… we will get a percentage of your profits. Also, you will swear a wizarding oath that you will not allow these products to be use in _**OUR**_ classes. By all means, feel free to use them in Dolores Umbridge's classes," Filius announced before nastily smiling at the twins.

**_"WICKED!_**" yelled the twins.

"Not so fast. I'll write up the contract…You will also be bound to secrecy, as our involvement can not be made known to ANYONE," Filius continued. "And the price for the assistance of each instructor and Poppy will be ten percent net profit... **_APIECE, PER ITEM SOLD._**"

The twins' smiles faded quickly, as they heard the sound of Galleons, Galleons and more bloody Galleons sliding into the instructors' purses.

"After you sign it, you will receive information on how to fix your products' side affects. Professor Snape, as a sign of our good faith, has given you information on how to solve the ceaseless projectile vomiting issue. When shall we meet again?"

"Thursday?" Severus suggested.

"That's the Gryffindor night to practice Quidditch," Minerva protested.

"Really, Minerva. What are your priorities? Quidditch? Or saving the lives of a few dozen students?"

Minerva growled at him, and he couldn't help but smile. _**FIVE POINTS**_ to Severus Snape, and minus _**TEN **_from Minerva for actually baring her teeth at him.

"Thursday's bad for me," Filius inserted. "And I can't trust the children without adult supervision."

The look he gave Severus and Minerva plainly meant that he was talking about them, not the Weasley twins.

"So next Monday. I'll need the time to examine the products. But a portable swamp, that's amazing! Can you imagine if they set it off in her office?"

* * *

"I need to talk to you two," Minerva advised Filius and Severus after everyone had left. "I didn't want to mention this in front of Poppy and Pomona. It's Dolores Umbridge… she's using a blood quill." 

Filius' mustache twitched in anger. "A blood quill… that's _**barbaric**_!"

"She's using it on the students," Minerva repeated. "I need your help. Severus, Filius, what can be done?"

Severus sat down at his desk and began to think.

"I'd have to create a charm, Min. Might take a few days," Filius admitted. "Plus, it's NEWT Level Charms, Severus?"

"Tincture of Murtlap," he suggested.

"How long will it take to make?" Filius questioned. "How complicated?"

"Three weeks. It's a Masters Level potion, Filius."

"Too long, and I need something that a student can make," Minerva explained.

"I can make the potion simpler and quicker to make, but it won't remove the scars," Severus protested. "Who do you plan on making the potion? If I know their skill level…"

"Hermoine Granger…" Minerva admitted.

"She'll be looking in the potions books in the library," Filius inserted. "I know her. She's probably there right now. But the scars, Minerva? Blood quills leave _**scars**_."

"Merlin's bloody beard, they'll have to deal with the scars, I'm afraid. Even a witch as thick as Dolores Umbridge will notice that there are no scars on Harry's hand. It's the pain and infection I'm mainly worried about."

"Potter?" Severus sighed.

"Potter. He refuses to lie about He Who Must Not be Named, so Dolores is having him write "I will not tell Lies" with a blood quill."

"Filius, I need you to pull the following books from the library. Get them here, and I'll work on dumbing down the Tincture of Murtlap into something Granger can make. Since she was making Polyjuice Potion during her spare time, I think I can make this work," Severus paused, and then mentioned several books. "Minerva, you'll need to transfigure one of my quills into a Blood quill. We'll have to test the potion, possibly several times, so make it very sharp."

* * *

"Give me the quill," Severus ordered. He placed a bowl of liquid near his left hand.

"I'll do it," Minerva insisted.

"No, I will. I'll be able to figure out how to modify the potion based on what I'm feeling. It's better if I do it."

Filius took the quill from Minerva's hand and handed it to Severus. "I don't approve, but I understand the necessity, Minerva. Go ahead, Severus."

"Did you sharpen it?" Severus asked.

"Yes. Each sentence will be equal to roughly five hours of writing with the pen."

Severus grimaced in disgust, and he began to write. Minerva watched as the skin of his left hand turned red and began to ooze blood.  
_**  
Severus Tobias Snape.**_

The blood began to run freely from his hand.

_**Severus Tobias Snape.**_

He inhaled once before he began to write again.

_**Severus Tobias Snape.  
**__  
_He bit his lip, not wanting to voice the agony he was feeling.

_**Severus Tobias Snape.**_

The blood was pouring from his hand and Filius grabbed the pen.

"That's more than enough, lad." Minerva chastised as she put his hand into the bowl. "Well?"

It wasn't bad, as it eased the pain, but it could be better, Severus decided. After all, he had a reputation to maintain.

"Needs to boil for longer. The compounds haven't completely blended so it needs a few more anticlockwise stirs during the simmering stage. Filius, I need you to place this recipe into the books."

Filius snapped his wand, and the three books opened to roughly the middle of their contents. A blank sheet of paper was waiting anxiously to be filled.

"Needs to go into the index, don't forget," Severus reminded Filius.

"Thank you, laddie. I would never have remembered," snarked Filius.

"I think I'm rubbing off on you," Severus grinned.

"Huzzah for me," retorted Filius. "Merlin knows that you've failed to pick up any of my good habits through our long association."

The two men laughed, and Minerva rolled her eyes. "The potion, Severus?"

"Very well. Essence of Murtlap. A solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles, yellow in color. Soothes and heals cuts and other wounds. A murtlap is a seashore-dwelling rodent native to Britain. A ratlike creature has on its back a growth resembling a sea anemone, which when pickled can be used to promote resistance to curses. Potion Level Ability: OWL Level. Estimated time to completion. Two Hours."

"New paragraph. Ingredients for Essence of Murtlap."

Severus closed his eyes and began rattling off what ingredients Hermoine Granger would need. He knew exactly how she worked in Potions, her strengths and her weaknesses, her inability to go beyond what was written, so he tailored the instructions to her ability. When he was done, he nodded his head, and Filius then returned the books to the library with a quick snap of his wand. Then Flitwick took his wand and made a circular gesture over the counter top. He peered into it, and began a running commentary.

"That's it, Granger. You're wondering why you didn't see that book before. Take it… take it back to the table. Quickly now, Granger… it's almost time to go back to the dorms."

The three of them sat in silence for a bit, and then Filius smiled.

"She has the book, and she's opening the page. She's looking at the index… That's it, Granger…keeping looking. It's under M…. She's found it. She's flipping through the pages. She's reading it. Yes... yes... it's exactly what you need, Granger. Quick, copy it, Granger."

Filius snapped his fingers with a sharp crack.

"And it's done! Ten points Gryffindor!"

Severus felt someone touching his left hand, and he saw Minerva was examining it. She had a look of disgust as she peered at the **_Severus Tobias Snape_** scar.

"Filius, you're better at charms then I am, can you remove the scar?"

Filius tapped it once with his wand, and a gentle warmth ran from his hand to his shoulder.

"Much better," whispered Minerva. "This is truly killing me, that we're reduced to working through the students. The Weasley Twins? Hermoine Granger?"

"Aye, Min. I quite agree with you, but if it's a choice between students or not doing a damn thing, what choice is it?" Filius questioned.

And Minerva wouldn't answer.

* * *

Flitwick flitted away to his quarters after giving her a rather intense glare that Severus never saw. 

"_Be gentle with the boy, or you'll deal with me, m'dear."_

Naturally, she glared back. It was though Filius believed that she'd be deliberately cruel to the boy. Well… crueler than she had been.

Severus was trying mightily to ignore her, as he was industrially waving his wand, intent on putting his classroom back to rights after the Weasley's not-always very successful attempts at demonstrating their Wizardly Wheezes. There were even several scarlet feathers that were deliberately avoiding being captured as though they were sentient. She patiently watched him work in silence for some time, wondering if she should offer assistance and finally the witch cleared her throat.

"Hem hem."

The Potions Master ceased his compulsive straightening and arched one eyebrow at her.

"Dolores? Fancy seeing you here in the dungeon. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"We need to talk, lad. You've been avoiding me since Saturday afternoon. An apology is in order."

"You're quite correct. I sincerely apologize for my rather presumptuous actions. I also should not have hexed you. There. We've talked, and we both agree that I'm completely to blame. Now go. I have an early class tomorrow and I must finish my marking."

His voice was perfectly calm, which meant he was still quite upset about the situation, wished her to leave or die, it didn't matter as long as she just completely disappeared from his life, so he could lick his wounds in private.

"Merlin's bloody garters, Snape. I want to talk to you about Saturday… You said something and I think we need to discuss how that affects our work relationship… Now…"

The boy interrupted her quickly with a soft," You need not worry about that. I kept my thoughts pure. I didn't dishonor you."

Now it was Minerva's turn to arch her eyebrow in confusion.

"Beg your pardon?"

Severus Snape, the Professor voted as the Scariest Menace on Campus, looked visibly uncomfortable.

"I know you must be concerned about…" He paused, swallowed once. His posture was ramrod straight, head held high but she could see the minute cracks in his façade as Severus was struggling to retain his emotional control. "But I kept my thoughts pure. I _**never**_ thought of you in that way."

"What way?" Minerva questioned. She wasn't trying to inflict more pain on him; Minerva just couldn't grasp what he meant.

She nearly blushed when Severus Snape looked her in her eyes and then proceeded to demonstrate an outstandingly obscene gesture with his rather graceful hands.

"Never thought of you… like that… with me… _**Never**_…I so swear."

For first time in decades, Minerva McGonagall found herself at a complete lost for words. It was rather… charming… that Severus was so terribly worried that she'd be alarmed at being the insubstantial day dream victim of his lustful fascinations… but on the other hand… considering the boy had been carrying a torch for her over the last few decades, the witch hoped that she would had engendered a naughty thought or three.

It was rather ego-crushing to know that the boy had firmly kept her on a bloody pedestal wearing her flannels for the last twenty odd years. No doubt he had steadfastly kept her spectacles and her witch's hat on also.

"I would _**never**_ desecrate you with my touch."

**_Oh lad, you've got it so bad. I should take you to my bed so I could shag you all night long, and then you'd get this unholy infatuation with my old carcass out of your system._**

"Severus… I need to apologize to you. I never suspected you felt anything towards me. I'm old enough to be your mother," Minerva commented with a dry laugh.

"I don't see you like that," Severus retorted. "When I look at you, I still see the beautiful woman that licked fudge off her fingers in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. You haven't aged at all, Mineva, while my soul has significantly aged. If anything, I believe that I am far older than Filius."

Oh Merlin, what could she say to THAT?

"As you are aware, Filius had asked me to befriend you."

"You correctly stated that I would not accept. After Saturday, I do not desire your friendship. Minerva McGonagall. One time, I would have been… _honored_… by your offer, but now, it would be nothing more than a constant reminder of a rather painful humiliation that I would prefer not to relive over and over again."

"What happens to you if Albus is gone? Who will you turn to if Filius is not here?"

Severus didn't even pause for a second when he shrugged his shoulders and admitted, "I'll have no one, Minerva. But I will persevere with my given tasks until I am no longer able."

**_He calls himself the Man that Dies, Min. There's two sides to the Harry Potter coin, Min, the Boy that Lives, and the Man that Dies. How can one man be so without hope and still stay sane?_**

"You could Obliviate the memory. I'll let you do it."

"I am _**not**_ that preening peacock Lockehart, Minerva." Severus dryly retorted.

"No, Lockehart dressed much, much better as he wasn't emotionally attached to monochromes. Now give me a vial, Severus, and I'll give you the memory myself. Then you take your own memory or not, and I will again offer to be your friend."

He spat his answer with his usual venom. "I don't desire your friendship, Minerva. As this episode successfully proved, my fears about your reaction were well deserved."

"Albus has decided in his infinite wisdom to have the two of us work on Filius' party, and we need to move on from what happened…"

Minerva walked over to him, and stood in front of him. She pointed her wand at her temple and stared at him. "Get a vial, and I will give you my recollections. Or don't give me a vial, and I'll still give you my memories."

"Bloody Gryffindors. Always being so _**damn**_ noble."

"I'm offering to do it, not out a sense of nobility, but because inadvertently I humiliated you. You won't accept my apology, so maybe this will convince you of my sincerity."

He turned his back on her and she remained positioned where she was. Severus continued to tidy his classroom for several minutes until he returned back to where she was standing, her foot resting on the very last scarlet feather. Minerva bestowed a challenging look upon him, and he sighed.

"Very well, I'll get a vial."

"Thank you, Severus," Minerva graciously stated. "I'm glad you agreed."

"Not like I had a chance. Your Bloody Gryffindor pride would probably ensure that you'd be standing in that very location until I consented. Everyone would demand to know the reason why Minerva McGonagall had decided to retake Potions."

She laughed, and Severus Snape gave her a slight smile.

"Well… at least I got a kiss or three," he admitted with a rusty laugh. "Far more than I had ever dared to hope."

Two kisses on his cheeks and that shy one where their lips had touched.

"Those weren't real kisses, lad. If we're both removing our memories…at least have a real kiss to loose. May I?"

She leaned toward him, not sure if he'd actually stand still for this. To prevent the boy from fleeing the scene, Minerva gently cupped his face with her hands. To her surprise, their lips _**did**_ touch. It was remarkable that such a sarcastic, acidic git had such soft lips, she thought. Severus smelled of his potions compounds, a surprisingly agreeable mix of assorted musks and oils.

Slow, gentle and yes, extremely hesitant closed mouth kissing led to more intimate kissing that swiftly turned heated. To her surprise, she found herself holding onto to Severus as the boy… no… the man… had pulled her body closer against his, almost crushing her against his chest. There was no doubt in her mind that Severus Snape wanted to _**devour**_ her.

To find someone who felt such passion for her _**at her age**_ truly astonished Minerva.

Remus had been her latest lover, a dear friend who made her laugh. Their intimacy had been trouble-free and delightful. And so when they had both known their liaison was over, they had both accepted it with an easy grace. She and Remus had been deeply grateful that their friendship had endured and had in fact become even stronger from their intimacy.

To couple with Severus would be _**dangerous**_. And dare she admit this? Even to herself?

It would be _**Invigorating.**_

They were still kissing, and sweet sanity only returned when she bumped into Severus' desk. Brigit! How did they get all the way to Severus' desk without her noticing? The shock of realizing that the current issue between her and Severus had not been resolved, but in fact, had fired up a few notches made her push him away.

"We need to stop," she whispered, even as the boy was covering her face with kisses.

When they finally broke apart, Severus was still supporting her.

"Merlin's bloody beard, Minerva. I am truly astounded you haven't killed anyone with one of your kisses."

His voice sounded like a heady mixture of dark chocolate and sex, and it took a moment for her to compose herself enough to respond.

"Fortunately, my lovers have always been strong of body as well as sturdy of heart, Severus." Her voice sounded winded and her heart was racing, and she had to blame the boy….. no, he was most assuredly _**not**_ a boy, Severus… for that.

"Else Hogwart's very own Pallas Athena would have a thousand mauled and damaged lovers cast behind her wake."

Severus's voice was silky smooth, with a trace of dry amusement. But… A thousand lovers? Did the boy think she was a trollop, slipping out of her robes for just _**anyone**_?

Instinctively, she retorted, "I'm _**not**_ a whore, Severus."

The slight half smile faded from his face and she stumbled as he stopped holding her. His black eyes were dead, as he instinctively began straightening his coat.

Oh damn it to the seventh circle of hell; Severus had attempted to make a joke. He had tried to jest about her Goddess like stature affecting those around her, and she straight away had made a comment about _**prostitutes**_.

"No… you are _**not**_ a whore. I am _**intimately**_ familiar with the various peccadilloes of whores, Minerva. I am far more comfortable dealing with them then I am with a witch of your virtue and reputation. For with the whores of Knockturn Alley, I always know what they want."

Snape's voice was ice.

His coat impeccable, he had crossed his arms. It was a defensive gesture, and Minerva noticed that his fists were clenched.

"What do you want from me, Minerva McGonagall? The whores want money…and sometimes they crave a hint of consideration from their punters."

Minerva sighed, and stretched her aching neck.

"That comment of mine was uncalled for and completely inexcusable. I do sincerely apologize for it. Please accept my apology, Severus."

"Godric Gryffindor must be spinning in his grave. Two apologies today from the Head of Gryffindor House to the _**Head of Slytherin**_?"

Severus' tone was dry and acidic, and Minerva felt as though he had slapped her. She bit her tongue, recognizing that Severus was paying her tit for tat.

"You never can make anything easy, can you, Severus?"

"Such is life, Minerva. I asked you what you want from me, and you still have not answered."  
_  
Filius. I'm only attempting this for you._

"Filius." Minerva decided to be truthful, or quasi truthful to Snape, ignoring the squicky sensation that she was manipulating him. "I'm reaching out to you for Filius' sake. He is almost one hundred and eighty one years old, Severus. He's extremely worried about what will happen to you if he's no longer available for you."

"Master Flitwick concerns himself needlessly," retorted the Potions Master. "I fully expect him to outlive me."

"Lately, his mind is full of dark remembrances of the incident in Mumbai." Minerva cautiously offered that scrap.

"Mumbai? He speaks of the Kali Massacre to you?" The boy's voice was startled.

Severus' hands had unclenched and he seemed somewhat calmer then he had been.

"There are three people in Hogwarts that he trusts enough to speak of Mumbai to them. Albus. You. Me. You know he condemns himself for not saving more of the students, Severus."

"There are few wizards that could have saved as many students as Filius did," Severus stated. "Are the old nightmares breaking through his Dream Catcher Wards? I will start working on a potion tonight. Damn the man for not telling me. How long has he been suffering?"

"He takes his responsibilities toward the students very seriously. No matter how old they are, Severus, Filius desires to protect them all. Therefore, it is not surprisingly to me that when Filius Flitwick's night terrors returned to haunt him, one of the students that he was trying to guard was _**you**_. Filius won't tell me what happened to you in his dream, but haven't you noticed? He's been extremely protective of you recently."

Severus was perfectly still, except for his hands that were clenched together. One thumb was rubbing the other hand, compulsively.

"I know you're not pleased with this. I haven't made it very easy for you, but damn it, Severus, Filius is getting old. He can't manage the burden alone any longer. Let me help you. Let me ease Filius' responsibilities."

The dark haired Slytherin said nothing, and after a few minutes of profound silence, Minerva McGonagall was willing to strategically retreat but Severus nodded his head.

"You are willing to share all of Filius' responsibilities toward me?" He softly questioned her. "Do you truly know what they are?"

"Yes," Minerva blithely assured him.

"I will ask you the same questions I asked Filius Flitwick. As my executioner… will you kill me quickly? Painlessly? If you are the one to execute me, will you promise me that I will not die alone? You'll be _**there**_… won't you? Don't leave me to die alone, unmourned, like a stray dog in the street, Minerva McGonagall."

Oh sweet Brigit. What the hell else had Filius Flitwick forgotten to mention to her?

Minerva McGongall cupped Severus Snape's face in her hands. Then, as she looked him in the eyes, she swore a Wizard's Oath that she would give him a quick and painless death, and that she would not let him die alone.

Then Severus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. He seemed to be in the midst of an internal conversation and then he rubbed his head.

"It appears then that I have to agree to this. You offered to remove your memories of Saturday morning… and my other lapses. I will find a suitable vial so you could put them in it."

"You will remove your memories first," he explained. "And you will put them in the vial. I will then ask you to remind me to destroy the vial after I remove my memories."

The silvery strands of her memories were soon in the vial, and before long, Snape's memories had joined them. He stared, transfixed, at the quicksilver liquid in the bottle

"I wonder what's in there," Snape softly questioned. "For both of us to be doing this."

"Destroy the vial," Minerva insisted. "You told me the container needed to be destroyed."

"Don't you wonder?" He queried. "What's in the vial?"

"No. I don't have any idea what might be in that vial." Minerva lied, for she had not removed the memories from her mind. No, instead Minerva had kept them, replacing them with a few daydreams.

It was a lie, pure and simple, and her conscience was already nagging her. But she had developed a greater understanding of who Severus Snape truly was since Saturday, and she was loathe to lose it.

Snape put the vial on the floor, and then he stamped hard on the vial with the heel of his shoe. For Minerva, the breaking of the glass sounded like the shattering of the young man's heart. She waved her wand over the broken glass and destroyed memories and sent them to oblivion.

_**Merlin knows you deserve someone far kinder than me, lad.**_

The moment was awkward so Minerva decided that something needed to be said.

"Have you managed to locate the India School of Magic?"

"One would hope that the India School of Magic, Witchcraft and Wizardry is located somewhere in India," Severus snapped. "Else the name would be badly chosen and wildly inappropriate. Does Albus have any idea on how to contact them?"

She was watching his blackboard, so she didn't respond. Minerva quietly observed as _**India School of Magic, Witchcraft and Wizardry**_ appeared in a very ornate script on the board. Not content with that, a rather elaborate sigil of a flying eagle was drawn in by an unseen hand.

"Minerva?" He prompted. "I'm waiting for a response. Usually one expects an answer to a question."

"Severus? Is your black board enchanted by chance?" Minerva questioned. "Do you write on it? Or does it just appear?"

"It appears when I wish it to do so," Severus shortly explained.

"That isn't your handwriting is it?" The witch asked. "I don't believe it is. It's quite legible for one."

The unseen hand continued to write.  
_**  
Praņām. **_

_**Kritika Veerasundari Mukhopadhyay **__**courteously**__** salutes Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the Professors Severus Tobias Snape and Minerva Marsaili McGonagall. She respectfully requests that the Honorable Professors enlighten her on the reason why they desire to converse.**_

"Can you hear us? Or do we need to write back?" Minerva questioned.

_**Regardless of method, your response will be known. You may choose which ever method you prefer.**_

Severus and Minerva exchanged glances, and Severus motioned for Minerva to speak.

"We desire to invite you to a gathering to honor Filius Flitwick. The gathering will be held at Hogwarts," Minerva began. The witch paused to gather her breath for a no doubt long winded spiel when the handwriting began scrolling on the blackboard.  
_**  
This matter requires further discussion. Contact will only be made again if a consensus has been obtained.**_  
_**  
Namasté.**_

_**Kritika Veerasundari Mukhopadhyay**_

The handwriting slowly faded from the black board, and Severus waited for several minutes after the last bit had disappeared.

"Right, friendly bunch, aren't they?" He quipped.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made. Don't run with scissors. Thanks to LinZE for her suggestions.

* * *

Monday night, after an all too passionate kiss with Severus, and the message from the India found Minerva returning to her quarters at a steady clip. She was eager for peace and quiet; instead, the witch found Filius Flitwick sitting on her couch, industriously reading one of her books from her personal library. The Charms Instructor had a sour look on his face and he was shaking his head as it seemed that he totally disagreed with the author. 

Being a considerate guest, not only had he let himself into her quarters and made himself quite at home, he naturally had brought a bottle of liquor which was on her table.

"Min!" He greeted her cheerfully. "Still in one piece, I see!"

Minerva ignored him, examined the unopened bottle, and decided that she'd allow him to stay just because he was serving elderflower wine. Part of her mind worried that she was turning into an alcoholic, as she had never consumed as much alcohol in a year as she had drunk in the last week.

The other part of her brain blamed her increasing need for alcohol on Umbridgitis. Once Hogwarts was free from the contagion, her thirst for the demon brew would be quenched. Therefore she must industriously strive toward the complete cure, but until then, Drink up!

"Good book?" She teasingly questioned, even as Minerva opened the bottle, conjured two glasses and began to pour.

"He's an _**idiot**_. I'm surprised he's not working for the Ministry," Flitwick firmly announced. He closed the book with a loud thud to show his complete distaste. After he had conjured the book back from whence it came, Flitwick gave her a very long weighing look. "Now, no blood, no obvious wounds, no apparent bruising, and you seem pensive, rather than angry. These are _**good**_ signs."

"We chatted," Minerva admitted after having a long, considering swallow of wine. "About many, many things. This wine is _**quite**_ good, Filius. From where did you get it?"

"Trying to change the subject, Min? It's not so easy, lass. I want to know what happened. Severus confessed his belief that this curriculum idea of Albus is a way of making him pay for his recent less than exemplary behavior,' Filius dryly admitted.

She nodded her head in agreement.

"Good. I'd rather it be that, than Albus actually paying attention to that toad. Give me details, Min, and I'll make some suggestions so this ordeal will be less painful for both of you."

She barely refrained from telling Filius the truth, but fortunately Minerva McGonagall's well known discretion interfered.

"We're merely talking to some of the schools on the Continent, plus a few other schools from further away. We'll discuss their current core curriculum and their various magical electives. Severus and I are to present a report to Albus regarding how Hogwarts stands verses other schools in certain fields. Albus has also asked that we contact a few of the more powerful mages that aren't affiliated with schools to find out what they believe is lacking in their nation's current curriculum."

"You contacting anyone I might know?" Filius questioned.

The witch glared at him, and mild Filius Flitwick grinned at the look on her face.

"I'm turning into _stone_!" He retorted, as he dramatically flayed his arms. "Help! _**Help!**_"

"Merlin's bloody beard, Filius, I don't believe that Albus wanted you to mollycoddle Severus. I'm not a black widow. I won't devour the boy. We'll get through this syllabus review without any need of you getting involved. Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but I believe the exact reason why you refused the position of Deputy Head Master at least six times, if not more, is because you loathe rubbish like this." For good measure, she added a sniff of disapproval.

Filius smirked.

The witch could feel herself shrinking… the years turning backwards and she was once again eleven years old!

"Min, I'm aiming to make Severus' punishment less of a Never Ending Ordeal of Mortification for him. If you tell me what you're looking for, what schools you're contacting, I can make suggestions on what should be asked."

"Never Ending Ordeal of Mortification?" Minerva quipped. "I do plan on finishing and submitting the report within three weeks."

"Come on, Min, the boy confessed that he's been carrying a burning torch for you for the last twenty odd years. You two even snogged. Then you tell him it's all a big, fat misunderstanding as you were only joking. I saw the way he acted with you tonight. He's self-flagellating himself, and pouring salt into the wounds. It's bloody painful to watch, Min. I'm sure it's far worse for you," Filius admitted.

"Actually, Filius, the issue has been resolved. In a rather surprisingly adult fashion I'm proud to confess," she added, hoping that Filius be satisfied by that response and would leave well enough alone.

The bastard _**laughed**_.

"I think you need to cease drinking so much, Filius, the demon brew is befuddling your mind," she primly sniped.

"Min, Min, Min. I know you, I know Severus. I know you two very well indeed," Filius gave her a very lecherous look. "You might even say I know you intimately, m'dear. _**Adult**_ fashion?"

He laughed again, and she hissed her annoyance.

"Severus was probably thisclose" and Filius' index finger was touching his thumb, "To hexing you. I'm rather impressed and somewhat surprised that he didn't. The boy implicitly and unreservedly trusted you, and he must have been quite rattled by the revelation that you were mocking him."

Filius' bright eagle eyes were intently watching her, and then he smirked as she slightly reacted to his painful comment.

"He did, didn't he? What did our bad little Slytherin do to you? Come on, Min, you'll feel so much better when you confess it all to dear Uncle Filius," he teased.

"_Lacus Somniorum._" She admitted that slowly.

He quietly mouthed the spell, and then Filius put his hand over his mouth, obvious in trying hard not to laugh. His dark eyes were highly amused and Minerva growled. He then waved his hands in silent apology.

"Merlin's beard, I have to give the boy credit; that was actually a pretty civilized hex." Filius giggled, and then he continued in a far more serious tone. "Instead of making boils appear all over your body, he decided to give you an hour's worth of deep, restorative sleep. Enough time for him to make his getaway. That was actually… rather well-mannered. Maybe there IS hope for our little Slytherin."

"No one is so far gone that they can't be saved," she retorted. "And no one is so far gone that they should live without hope of salvation, even Severus Tobias Snape."

"Minerva, Minerva, Minerva," Filius softly repeated. He wore a very considering look on his face. "What has caused this complete turn around in your view point towards my little Slytherin?"

"It's personal," was her lightning quick response.

"Don't keep secrets, Min." He wagged his index finger at her in a scolding manner.

"Filius, you speak of me keeping secrets, you never informed me that you were the boy's executioner," Minerva retorted.

The Head of Ravenclaw turned a distinctively whiter shade of pale.

_**And she SCORES!**_

"Morgana le fay!" Filius cursed; his voice surprisingly calm. "The boy told you _**that**_? What else did he tell you?"

"The two of us had a long conversation about what happened. I offered to be a friend to him, he quite naturally refused. I offered again, and unintentionally I upset him. His sense of humor is… rather sardonic, and usually directed towards himself," Minerva admitted that tidbit very slowly.

"You're not mentioning something important. You've obviously befriended him if he mentioned my task in all this. It's not something either of us is willingly to talk about. So, what happened? Did you bed the boy, Min? While you were whispering sweet nothings to him, did my position as Severus' possible executioner slip from his lips?"

"Filius, don't be malicious," Minerva spat.

"Did he cry out during the pinnacle of ecstasy, 'Filius Flitwick, my only friend, is my executioner'?"

She attempted to interrupt Filius, but the Ravenclaw Head had a full head of steam.

"You talk about me being cruel, yet you throw my responsibility in my face. Do you believe that I am _**happy**_ with Albus for doing this to me? Dumbledore asked me to befriend the boy, to mentor Sev, to learn how he reacts, what Sev thinks, what Sev believes, so if the boy snaps from the ungodly pressure, I can predict what he'll do. If that boy cracks, I will call down a Final Strike on him that will make the holocaust at Mumbai look like child's play. And if I call that Final Strike on the boy I consider the son of my heart, I will take my own life after fulfilling my last promise to him."

For a wonder, Filius wasn't angry. The fact that he was speaking so matter of fact about his role made Minerva's heart ache for him and for Severus and yes; the witch even felt a smattering of compassion for Albus Dumbledore. That fickle bitch, the Greater Good, was once again, wrecking havoc, uncaring of the emotional costs for all those involved in this Wizard War.

"So you'll be there when it happens, so he won't die alone?" she whispered.

"Well, yes, Min, I will make sure he doesn't die alone. But my last promise to Sev is that I'd bury him."

She nodded her head, trying not to show the tears that were filling her eyes and Filius patted her hand. Times like this, she hated that her stern demeanor was so superficial. Minerva cared deeply for all her students, present and former, she was just loathed to reveal how much.

"Good Lord, Min, what did you promise him…" Filius paused.

"That his death at my hands would be painless and quick, and I swore an oath that he would not die alone," she admitted.

Filius rubbed his head, and he gestured toward the wine.

"Bloody, bloody hell. Would you mind pouring an old man some more wine?" The Charms Instructor requested.

"I don't see an old man, but I'll pour it for you anyway," she teased, in an attempt to break the tension.

Filius shook his head, and gratefully drank. He was silent for a bit, and finally, he sighed. The sigh was full of pain, grief and exasperation, and then he smiled. The smile didn't quite reach his dark eyes, Minerva noticed.

"So, congratulations are in order. You've joined a very exclusive club, Min, The Friends and Possible Executioners of Severus Tobias Snape. I wish you hadn't enrolled, but it's reassuring not to be the only member," Filius stated softly. "Now tell me, how did you convince the boy? We need complete honesty between club members, Min."

"I agreed to remove the memories of what happened from my mind. I gave them to him and he removed his own memories. They were placed in a vial which Severus destroyed, and now, we're back to our regular stalemate in regards to his feelings toward me. I unmercifully guilted the boy into allowing me to befriend him. I thoroughly bludgeoned the boy with guilt about how you would feel about leaving him alone, and he regretfully agreed. Please forgive me for using your friendship with Severus like that."

Filius shook his head.

"Oh, Min, you _**kept**_ your memories, didn't you? You knew that he was so embarrassed about what happened between you two that he'd never look at your recollections to confirm you spoke the truth. He trusted you to put the memories into the vial," Filius stated and then he laughed.

"Min, you banked on him to actually put his own memories into the vial. Neither of you checked each other's memories to make sure they were the right ones, because you couldn't…" Filius then paused, and shook his head. "And neither of you put the right memories in the vial. So you both know what happened, but you won't admit it to the other."

Her nostrils flared, as she processed that tidbit. That damnable boy had kept his memories? Her inner voice jabbed her and tartly informed her, "So did you, witch!"

"He kept the memories?" Minerva softly questioned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. He is obsessive. I believe that he kept the memories for a variety of reasons. One, it will remind him not to slip with regards to his feelings for you again," Filius explained.

"And the other reasons?" She asked.

"Because he is deeply enamored, Minerva, Sev will keep the memories of his Saturday morning kisses, in spite of the embarrassment and humiliation. He'll also cherish the memory of the passionate kiss you gave him tonight before you both _**didn't**_ destroy your memories of Saturday."

"You know about tonight? Merlin's bloody goat, Filius, does Severus have any secrets from you?" She tried to keep her anger and her mortification from her voice, but failed. Merlin's Beard, her face was _**crimson**_.

Her angry reaction amused Filius.

"Ah, so you did kiss the boy tonight. Thank you for confirming, Minerva," Filius teased. "I thought you had, but I was not sure."

"Am I _**that**_ transparent?"

Merlin, she was getting old, drunk, maudlin and predictable, and that last characteristic hurt her Scottish pride the most. One time, Minerva had been an unpredictable hellion, a force to be reckoned with, tormenting friends and foes alike. Now… now she was merely trite and banal. Next thing she'd know, she'd be wearing pink and collecting china with meowing kitties on them!

"No, lass. I just remembered that night we decided this relationship of ours was far better as loving friends, than lovers. You gave me a kiss that night that I still remember, though it's been quite a few years, Min," confessed Filius.

Flitwick toasted her with his wine glass, and she raised her own in acknowledgement of his tribute.

"You're a wonderful, compassionate woman, Minerva McGonagall, a soothing balm to shattered souls. Severus should consider himself blessed that he has a friend like you."

His gentle voice got her teary, and he commiseratingly patted her hand.

"Come now, lass, take the compliment gracefully. So how are you planning on treating the poor boy now, Min?"

She swallowed, trying to regain her composure.

"I'll try to be nicer to him, to make more efforts to talk to him, and not to let his sarcasm bother me. I'll make every effort to treat him no differently then I do my other friends."

"And don't forget, Rule # 2 of the club is that we can give the boy a good, swift kick in the arse when he deserves it," Filius chuckled. "Rule # 3 is to reapply Rule # 2 as necessary."

Filius's voice then turned brisk.

"Now, if you're going to talk curriculum with other schools, you need to know a few things. The Taiwan Institute is run by Qin-Cao Shī. Qin-Cao is her surname. Shī has an unholy fetish for Chinese Fireball Dragons that makes Hagrid seem sane by comparison. She'll try to convince you of the necessity of having a tri-semester devoted to hands on Dragon time. You need to ask her about medicinal potions, as Taiwan has some interesting mixes of folk medicine and magical potions."

Flitwick paused, and granted her a very long, amused look.

"Will you be writing any of this down, Miss McGonagall? Or will you be relying on your keen memory?"

Merlin's beard, he was turning back in Master Flitwick, Instructor and she, as the student needed to quickly find parchment and a quill. Once she had the proper equipment for transcribing in front of her, Filius continued.

"Now, the Indian School of Magic, Witchcraft and Wizardry is a rather strange case. Technically, after the partioning of India, the school should have separated into three distinct, independent entities. India, Pakistan and Kashmir, but due to the strong bonds between the faculty members, it never split. The Headmistress is Kritika Veerasundari Mukhopadhyay. Her full name is extremely important, because India went insular after what happened. Some may say that they spent far too long contemplating their navels, but the school is very, very powerful with regards to the Old magic. Names have a great deal of power in India, and she'll give you her full name, but she will address you by your full name. It's a balance of power because you can command her and she can control you."

"She has a Vice-Headmaster, Mohammed Shujaat Masood, three senior deputy headmasters, and eight deputy headmasters. These thirteen mages are known as the Cadre. They are all survivors of the Kali Massacre, and they have taken an oath to defend the school with their lifeblood. Very serious, exceedingly intense group. Do not take them lightly for each is a formidable mage in his/her own right, but the Cadre acting in concert? Batten down the hatches, Min..."

* * *

"Morning, Severus," Minerva's voice was... dare he believe it, almost sociable. 

It was Thursday, three days after she had casted out her memories of what had occurred this past weekend, and since that time she had been... distinctively friendly.

To _**him**_.

Maybe he was just being paranoid, or perhaps because he hadn't Obliviated his memories of kissing her. Merlin's bloody beard, that _**last**_ kiss had nearly put him into cardiac arrest, and Severus would be bloody damned if he would ever willingly give up that memory. He had spent the nights since the kiss restlessly tossing in his bed, unable to sleep; all the while wondering what her kisses would be like if she actually desired him and what a wild cat Minerva McGonagall must be between the sheets.

Albus Dumbledore's heart must be in pretty damn good shape considering he was one hundred and fifty.

Come to think of it, Filius' ticker must be pretty damn strong also.

Bloody hell, he bet that the witch gave a cat like stretch and a loud purr of satisfaction when she saw her lovers, lying next to her in bed, completely enervated from sexual pleasure.

Perhaps, it would have been wiser to Obliviate the memory, as he often found himself stealthily watching her, and remembering how it felt to hold her on Monday night.

Severus felt uneasy about keeping the memory, as he was in fact, lying to Minerva, but he had wanted to keep it as a strong reminder to NEVER let his true feelings slip again.

His dreams, never particularly pleasant, had turned into tormenting nightmares of a very regal Minerva McGonagall standing before him, a challenging expression on her face, her hands resting on her slim hips, and him, hesitant, with badly shaking hands, attempting to undress her. The Gryffindor Lioness would permit him a single, fumbling kiss, and he, as the supplicant, would nervously brush his lips on her cheek.

Each dream, they went further and further before he woke.

The brief kiss on the cheek, would lead to him hesitantly touching her dark hair. If approval was granted, he would then nervously remove her hair pins, so her long hair would tumble out of the bun. He'd admired her long hair, how it felt when he ran his fingers through it, the smell of her perfume and shampoo. Then Severus would be apprehended when he stole one of her hair pins for himself. That theft of that small token always caused Minerva to laugh until she was breathless.

Even in his dreams, Snape was still fearful of being mocked scorned and so naturally he reacted by flinching. His dream Minerva always ceased laughing and then soothed his unease by stroking his face, reassuring him that she wasn't laughing at him. When Severus was once again composed, she would insist on a full kiss on her lips, and then while he was still recovering from that complete shock, the witch would deliberately placed his hand on her collar.

The witch was so damn beautiful all he could do was stare at her. To his shock, instead of being angry, Minerva took his other hand and placed it on the button. They never spoke in these dreams, but Minerva slowly nodded her head in affirmation before she gave him a very slight smile.

When the Potions Master couldn't take the next step, she unbuttoned her own collar, teasing Severus by showing him just a sliver of silky skin hidden beneath her robes.

Severus' last dream of her had gotten to the point where Minerva had unbuttoned the second button on her shirt when she had realized that he was only capable of staring at her in complete awe and adoration. He had woke then, his heart pounding, gasping for breath, his body _**craving**_…

Severus had never thought of her like _**that**_ with_** him**_.

All these years, he had prided himself on his severe, uncompromising self-control. And like bloody hell, he vowed, would he actually entertain and expand on those illicit thoughts of Minerva, because they were a one way trip to utter madness. Next thing he knew, he'd be trotting out with Lupin and Dumbledore on every full moon to mark every bush at Hogswarts and then howl in trio.

He had sworn to her that he had kept his thoughts of her _**pure**_.

Now Severus couldn't get out of the damn gutter!

His dark thoughts were interrupted when Minerva placed her hand on his shoulder in greeting even as she sat down. That was certainly... odd...but she had become more physically demonstrative since Monday night, greeting him much the same way as she did the other professors. Severus was soon distracted by Filius Flitwick who was heading to his own seat at the Staff Table. The Charms Instructor looked about quickly and then softly asked, "Anything brewing, Minerva?"

"Yes," Minerva whispered. The witch appeared her usual reserved self, except there was a hint of a smile. Plus her green eyes were sparkling with unconcealed mischief.

Merlin's bloody beard, the witch was _**stunning **_when she was mutinous.

"One day, I must have a long conversation with the Sorting Hat on why she didn't get placed in my House! She's a Ravenclaw through and through." squeaked Flitwick. "If I were Moody, I'd swear it was a conspiracy that you got her, Min. She should be a Ravenclaw!"

"She's a Gryffindor!" Minerva retorted, her pride in her student obvious. "Heart of a lion, that one!"

"She has the soul of a Slytherin," inserted Severus, who admittedly was being contrary just to watch Minerva's fur fly.

Minerva snorted, and Filius rolled his eyes.

"You forget from whose store that girl has been nicking everything. She's a natural born thief as she made a loud, conspicuous distraction in her Potions Class yesterday just so she could 'secretly' nick my Murtlap. Minerva, I trust that you will be paying for that, won't you?" He drawled, and Minerva lost her composure enough to glare at him. "I had to express owl it in."

_**Point to Severus! **_

"Risking Snape's wrath, that's Hufflepuff," Filius dryly stated. He glanced over Severus' way and winked, to show Severus that he was being daft. "Friendship to the very death, that's a true Hufflepuff for you. Perhaps she should have gone to that House."

Minerva looked as though she was sucking a lemon. "Hufflepuff? _**HUFFLEPUFF**_?"

_**And TEN points to Filius Flitwick! **_

"The Pink Toad's on her way," hissed Rolanda as she stormed over to her seat. "No smiling allowed! She'll think you're up to something!"

"Now, we wouldn't want that, would we?" chortled Filius.

* * *

The owls started arriving in bulk that morning. 

He and Minerva had received forty odd versions of "_**Delighted to be invited. Wouldn't miss it for the world! So and So will be showing up also" **_through regular owl post, the head chat via the floo, or the locals 'popping' their response in via the placement spell. But now the foreign wizards and witches were responding and predictably, all of them had deliberately ignored the "_**We're trying to keep it a surprise!**_" part of the invitation. He couldn't even claim it was a problem in translation, because Albus Dumbledore had charmed every damn letter so that it would be read in the reader's mother tongue.

Bloody showoffs! It was supposed to be a _**SURPRISE**_ for the most observant, Eagle-eyed wizard he had ever known.

His stomach clenched at the thought of what would happened when all those foreign wizards and witches got together and decided to impress each other, because no doubt they would ignore the politely worded, "_**This will be a nice, quiet, intimate affair of Filius Flitwick's closest friends and colleagues."**_

But that problem would be a week or so in his future, and as a rule, he kept his focus firmly on the disasters at hand, rather than what looming catastrophe waited to ambush him on the next bend in the road. Merlin knows that if he ever thought of what damage Neville Longbottom was capable of doing in his fifth year of Potions, he would never have willingly step foot in the dungeons ever again after his first year of teaching Longbottom. _**  
**_  
He was enjoying his cuppa, when there was an exceedingly loud, metal bending, piercing screech. Severus looked up to see a large bird was leisurely gliding through the Great Hall, and it was heading his way. Naturally every student pointed at the bird and the noise level in the Great Hall increased exponentially.

The rather regal bird in question couldn't be a Russian Firebird? Oh, yes, it _**was**_! Only one mage had tamed a Russian Firebird as a familiar, the bloody Mad Bear Mage of Russia. The last time he checked, Yuri wasn't allied with any of the Russian Federation of Magic Schools because everyone was bloody terrified of him. Yes, Minerva had told him about the conversation she had with Filius when the wizard had been snooping, and how she claimed to Filius that they were speaking to non-school affiliated Wizards.

But Bloody Yuri was a stark, raving nutter! Wouldn't he normally be packing on the kilos now as rumors were that he usually hibernated as a Bear during the winter months?

_**Bloody Hell. OWL DELIVERY! OWL! OWL, YURI - IS THAT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND?**_

The bird possessed scarlet, gold and silver colored feathers, bright flames bursting from its mouth whenever it decided to let loose one of his deafening screeches and a good two meter plus wingspan. It landed on the edge of the table with a noticeable thunk, causing the china to rattle. The bird gave him an imperious glower, even as it extended one of its legs.

Severus glared back, as like bloody hell he'd be intimidated by a flying, feather brained, fire hazard. He attempted to take the letter off the bird's leg, but the bird hissed, and moved away from him. Minerva was useless, as she was dealing with a bitter bird brawl between six owls, two crows and a rather large raven, one that was thankfully refraining from quoting 'nevermore'. Meanwhile a golden snidget fearfully rested on her crooked hat, smartly trying to stay the hell out of the argument.

A golden snidget?

_**A GOLDEN SNIDGET! That must be Roderick Jorgin from the Modesty Rabnott Golden Snidget Reservation. Come on, Roderick, we could possibly get away with explaining away a Russian Firebird, but Filius will most assuredly notice a GOLDEN SNIDGET!**_

Wasn't it a class Z felony to use a Snidget for mail? Well, it mattered not to him, as it was Minerva's post. But hopefully she wouldn't be incarcerated until AFTER the damn party.

Minerva, he was pleased to note, look flustered as the raven was mercilessly refusing to get into queue. Severus took a quick look about, wondering if he had fallen down the Muggle rabbit hole. Nope, he was still in Hogwarts and the bloody anarchist Albus Dumbledore was merrily watching everything go straight to hell, his blue eyes twinkling like mad.

"Firewhisky!" Filius piped from the other end of the Staff Table. "Firewhisky, Severus!"

"It's a little early, Filius, but I still think it's a grand idea!" Hooch shouted.

"No, Russian Firebirds drink firewhisky. You'll get the mail after he drinks." Filius inserted over the raucous laughter of his side of the table. "Water puts out their fire, so it has to be firewhisky."

Wilhelmina Grubby-Plank nodded her professional agreement with Filius' suggestion, and then Severus noticed that there was a gray, furry mammal sitting on the table next to him. It had a black bandit's mask on its face, and its tail was ringed in a variety of colors. It nodded its head once and Severus nervously realized that its dark eyes held a frightening amount of intelligence, far, far, far more brainpower than Neville Longbottom would ever hope to possess. The mammal, having greeted him and realized that he was in queue, then intently examined the sugar bowl with a quizzical look before it began to energetically wash the sugar cubes in the nearest teacup. The cubes then washed, the raccoon began to energetically stuff the swiftly dissolving sugar cubes down its throat at a truly frightening rate.

It was no surprise to him that Dolores Umbridge arrived at that point and began to scream.

Listens-to-Wind's familiar had decided to dunk his sugar cubes in her pink teacup after all. Little Brother seemed to possess a bit of a sweet tooth.

"What is that _**THING**_?" Dolores screeched.

Minerva's steadily increasing queue of nine owls, one frightened golden snidget, two crows, one busy raven and an eagle of some kind all stopped fighting long enough to inspect the source of that ungodly screech. The Russian Firebird appeared distinctively disgruntled as Dolores Umbridge's voice was far more piercing then he could ever hope of being on his best day. The bird belched, nearly succeeding in setting Severus' cloth serviette on fire, duly presented his leg for Severus to remove the letter sans the required drink of firewhisky and then quickly left the scene, scarlet, feathery tail between his legs.

The raccoon, now being completely blitzed on a sugar high, and naturally, being properly afraid of the rabid woman in pink who was foaming at the mouth, jumped into Severus' lap, as though to say, "_**Protect me!**_"

Alas, Little Brother did not realize that it was every mammal for himself whenever Dolores Umbridge was near.

"It's a raccoon," Severus explained as he pulled the furry mammal out of his lap, ignoring the animal's chattering that was probably in all likelihood probably quite obscene comments in Raccoonese. "A very ill mannered familiar, at that I might add. Professor Grubby-Plank? I believe we are in need of your assistance down here?"

Fortunately, the witch was competent, unlike her predecessor, and she realized that the mail situation was to descending into complete anarchy. She marched down to their end of the table, hissed something at the birds, which immediately organized them into a queue, the bashful Raven bringing up the very end of the line. Then Grubby-Planks chattered at the raccoon, and the raccoon settled down immediately. The familiar then presented a damp, sugar encrusted letter to Severus, who managed to say "Thank you" after a pointed glare from Wilhelmina.

Meanwhile, Dolores Umbridge was having some sort of eppy and no one cared.

At all.

"You two will need to come down to the paddocks after this. I have a griffon, a snow leopard, two gazelles and an assortment of eagles all looking for you," Grubby Planks softly informed them. She need not have bothered as Dolores was screaming so loud that a Fwooper could be singing its song of madness and no one would be affected. "I think their mages Transported them to the meadow outside Hogsmeade, and the familiars made their way here."

Minerva and Severus shared a brief look of stunned disbelief, and behind the two Instructors, Albus Dumbledore delightedly smiled. It seemed his idea was working out even better than he had hoped.

"Only a few more days," Severus reminded Minerva.

"Then you and I will kill the bastard," Minerva hissed. "His death will be painful, and it will be horrific...We'll meet for lunch, so we can plan a suitable death."

"Shouldn't we finish planning first?" Severus said dryly and arched his eyebrow for good measure. "We don't want to be in Azkaban with this unfinished?"

"We'll do that as well. Speaking of which, we're meeting in the Great Hall tomorrow night to play with the Fireworks. Be there at seven sharp. We'll need to shield the Great Hall, so the three of us will need to work together."

* * *

The various familiars in Wilhelmina's paddocks had multiplied by the time Severus and Minerva were able to visit during their lunch. 

"I'm glad you two have shown up. We've got a Chiru, a Zebra, Jobberknoll, a griffon, a snow leopard, an Arabian gazelle, which is supposed to be extinct I might add, a wildebeest, seventeen different varieties of Eagles, a hawk, a Fwooper," she paused and raised her hand to silence their alarm. "The Fwooper is heavily silenced, and I casted a couple more silencing spells on it, just to be safe. I don't plan on losing any limbs while I'm working at Hogwarts, nor lose my mind. Speaking of losing one's mind, you also have a post by Demiguise; the problem is that she's frightened by the snow leopard, so she keeps turning invisible."

"Probably the Japanese Institute of Magical Studies as Tanaka Yukiro was contacted. I believe his familiar is a Demiguise," Minerva inserted.

"Well, I've set up a paddock just for her. I also filled it with all sorts of Demiguise treats, and spelled it against carnivore intruders, so I assume that she's hiding in there. Some of the familiars will no doubt be staying until their mages arrive, so I've set up a secure spots for them, away from the prying eyes of students. Don't worry; the Snidget and the Jobberknoll are most assuredly safely tucked away."

"Thank you, Wilhelmina," Minerva was the very epitome of graciousness, so Severus muttered a quick comment of appreciation. After all, he could be just as polite as Mineva was.

"No need to thank me, this is all for Filius," the witch waved off the thanks. "Plus, no doubt Umbridge isn't going to be too keen on seeing how well respected Filius is, will she? Marking him down for being part-Goblin. I should sick a niffler or four on her. Bloody hell, I should sent a dozen packs after her."

Minerva shook her head in disapproval, but her green eyes were sparkling at the very thought of Dolores being attacked by a raving, rabid band of Nifflers, intent on obtaining her rings.

"Very well, let us get our mail, Severus," Minerva regally declared.

He noticed that she was letting him approach the snow leopard, who had decided to have a nice, large yawn then. The leopard's yawn showed off rows of bright, shiny, sharp teeth, and so Severus decided to be a gentleman.

"Witches before Wizards," he stated.

Her green eyes narrowed in disagreement, and he barely refrained from smiling. Thank Merlin, obviously the witch had Obliviated the memories of Saturday, as she was treating Severus just like before he slipped up, except she was being slightly friendlier to him.

Severus could live with a friendlier Minerva, he just couldn't face a Minerva McGonagall that knew he hopelessly fancied her. Even after all these years, Severus Tobias Snape had a smidgeon of pride left.

* * *

The next morning, Severus was performing his daily ablutions. Yes, a shower and a shave. He had once again declared his hair a completely lost cause and then he moved onto the next part of his morning ritual. Shaving was always done with a cut throat razor, as it required the utmost in concentration and steady hands. He had lathered his face and neck, dropped the shaving brush into the cup, turned to face the mirror and then nearly neatly slit his throat. 

Accidentally.

"_**Namasté**_, Professor Severus Tobias Snape."

One couldn't him blame for nearly slicing his jugular open, because instead of the well lathered face of a rather sallow skinned, greasy hair git he had seen in the mirror for all of his life, there was a dark skinned, dark hair woman who greeted him with a slight bow. Her hands were pressed together, the palms touching and fingers pointed upwards. The greeting made, the woman then stared back at him. She had a diamond in her nose, a bindi on her forehead and she was draped in flowing dark red fabric. Her dark eyes were serene pools of midnight black, though Severus suspected Kritika Veerasundari Mukhopadhyay was trying not to show her amusement. The Eagle Sigil of the India School of Magic, Witchcraft and Wizardry was behind her.

"Bloody hell," he yelped, as he was stark naked, except for the lather on his face, and the woman had the same regal bearing as Minerva McGonagall. He suspected shrinkage of an intimate kind had occurred and Severus knew that his face was bright red from embarrassment. "Most people send owls!"

Then again, most schools of magic didn't claim to be non-existent, as it had a tendency of cutting down on their enrollment.

Quickly, he grabbed a towel, a thick black towel, and wrapped it around his waist. He was never very proficient at conjuring clothing at the best of times, which is why his wardrobe consisted of simple basic black. There was no way in hell that he'd be able to conjure a dressing gown with the sharp eyed woman staring at him.

"Many apologies, Professor Severus Tobias Snape," the woman said in heavily accented English. She made a gesture that could have been an apology but far more likely meant _**'Sod Off you Greasy Git. I'm far too busy running my unplottable school to deal with the likes of you, so let's make this right quick mate, before I curse your unmentionables into permanently staying that way**_.' "I have been forced to use inconvenient methods to communicate with you and it was thought that it would be discourteous to continue to mirror write."

_**It's more discourteous to show up unannounced in someone's bathroom mirror where they are likely to be spending a significant amount of time naked! Rumors to the contrary, I do SHOWER! Every BLOODY DAY! SOMETIMES I EVEN SHOWER TWICE A DAY!**_

"A consensus was reached by the Cadre to open further discussion with you and Minerva Marsaili McGonagall. Is she available? I do not sense her essence, but since your soul was more heavily imprinted on the correspondence, I felt it prudent to first contact you."

Merlin's bloody polka dotted knickers tied and twisted in a bunch, he rarely dealt with foreign mages; so he should be overly polite, but bloody hell, he was wearing nothing but shaving lather and a towel!

"She's not in my suite at the moment," he retorted.

"When is her presence expected? I will return then," the woman stated.

Bloody hell, Kritika had no sense of irony.

"I don't expect her in my rooms in the next millennia or so. She's rather _**proper **_that way."

"That is problematic," Kritika stated smoothly, so smoothly, he wondered anew if she was laughing. "Conversations of this type require a mirror. Are you intimate with how her quarters are situated? I am confident that she must possess more than one mirror in her rooms. Perhaps one located in an area more conducive to conversation?"

Bugger! Bugger! Bugger. Kritika _**was **_snickering at him. She must be blood-kin to Albus, except her dark eyes weren't twinkling in amusement.

"No, I'm afraid that I don't have the pleasure of being familiar with her quarters, nor do I know the number of mirrors in her residence. Would you mind turning around, so I can get _**dressed**_?"

One delicate eyebrow arched.

"You need not be shamed. I only see you from the waist up, Professor Severus Tobias Snape, and while some on my staff may think you are too heavily scarred to be attractive, I find a man's mind to be his _**most**_ intriguing feature..."

Oh bloody hell; Kritika Veeradundari Mukhopadhyay was Minerva in a bloody sari. Forget about shrinkage, they were now turning necrotic and falling off in terror!

Instinctively, he crossed his arms in front of him, to give himself some sort of dignity, and to cover the worst of his scars on his chest. The gesture caused Kritika to notice his left forearm. He had kept it carefully hidden beneath his right, but her eagle eyes still saw his Dark Mark. The serene look in her eyes shattered, and was replaced by a dawning look of horror. She stared at the tattoo, mouthing one word over and over again, and then Kritika Veerasundari Mukhopadhyay stepped away from the mirror.

She spoke rapidly in what he believed to be Sanskrit, and he heard voices "off-mirror" responding in kind. There were many voices, male and female, old and young, but they were all repeating the same word. Some were calm, others were far more emotional, but it was the same word.

_**Nāga.**_

The image in the mirror tilted sideways, and he no longer saw the Head Mistress' face. Instead Severus saw flashes of bright colors mingled with dark colors, multi-hued saris, kurtas, sherwanis and dhotis. Then it went black, as though her mirror was placed face down on a table.

"This conversation is now concluded," Kritika stated. "Per the expressed wishes of the Cadre, no further contact will be allowed."

The blackness was replaced by a rather startled looking, sallow skinned, greasy haired git with a faceful of shaving lather.

_**Oh bloody, bloody hell, Filius, I'm so sorry. I've really cocked it up this time**_.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer**_: Not my characters.

* * *

That Friday Severus was unsuccessful in his valiant attempts to converse with Minerva regarding what he had taken to sardonically calling the Great Curry Catastrophe, but it was never a good time for two of them to have a private chitchat. One time, Dolores was skulking nearby, her bug eyes searching for sedition, another time, Filius was sitting in the Staff Room having a cuppa and a long winded conversation with Professor Vector, and now, midafternoon, Albus Dumbledore was in the Staff Room, peering at Minerva and Severus with his blue eyes merrily a twinkle. 

Bloody, bloody Hell.

He felt like accosting Albus, and pointedly reminding him that the Head Master had his own office, and the Staff Room was for _**STAFF MEMBERS**_.

While he really didn't look forward to telling Minerva what had happened, he knew he had to do so, and do so quickly. Perhaps McGonagall had a suggestion on how to salvage the situation.

Merlin's bloody beard, he had to piss off India.

_**INDIA**_.

Minerva and Albus had gone through the list of invitations, citing which invitees that Filius would most likely want to attend. Even Snape had made a few suggestions on the must-invites, but all three had agreed one thing. If they could persuade a representative of the notoriously gun-shy and extremely reclusive India School to attend the get-together, it would be the Pièce de résistance. Bloody hell, they had even jokingly wondered what the reaction would be if they managed to get TWO attendees to show.

This project of Albus was not just a punishment for him. Though truthfully, the project hadn't been as big an ordeal as he had feared. Minerva was regarding him like he was the scourge of the Earth, and it was reassuring that she was acting the same way to him as she always had, and would always continue to do so, Merlin willing.

More importantly, this gathering was to have been a celebration of Filius' rather remarkable life and a subtle warning to Dolores Umbridge that Filius Flitwick was a formidable mage to be respected, irregardless of his goblin blood. There were few mages living that could state that they had communed with Tibetan Mages on the "Roof of the World", tracked Drakes with a Mad Russian Bear Mage, learned how to stitch Dragon wings in Taipei, experienced a vision quest after sipping hallucinogenic tea in the Colonies with an American Indian, sipped Raksi in Nepal, saved students from a holocaust of zealots in India, and raced zebras in South West Africia… and so much more. For someone too frequently dismissed as a mere academic, Filius had led a very colorful life.

Severus had actually found himself… intrigued, as Minerva and Albus would often gossip on how Filius knew the particular witch or wizard. To think that a mage of Flitwick's caliber was willing to mentor a greasy git like him was quite... astounding. In spite of his cynical nature, Severus had become determined to ensure that the party was a complete success. He owed Filius Flitwick that much, and far, far more.

Naturally, he had managed to cock everything up. Cursing himself, he tightened instinctively, thinking of his father.

_**You ruin anything you touch, as you're about as fumble fingered and lack witted as your mother. Zounds! I'd have my doubts that I fathered you except your mum's so ugly that I doubt she'd find anyone else to willingly shag her. **_

How could he look Filius in his eyes and cheerily inform the mage, "Sorry, India decided not to attend because of me. Quite sorry about that, but everybody else showed!"

Therefore Severus Snape needed to confess the embarrassing situation to the High Court of Dumbledore, throw himself on the mercy of the court, and let Judge Albus decide what needed to be done to correct the situation. No doubt Prosecutor McGonagall would desire nothing less than to baste him with tomato sauce and throw him to the werewolves at the next Full Moon.

_**But damn it,**__**I didn't intend to show her my tattoo, I couldn't help it! I was wearing nothing but shaving lather as I was bloody starkers at the time! **_

He conjured a 'Do Not Disturb' notice for the Staff Room Door. It was a subtle charm, which caused the Staff Room be unnoticed by anyone except if they were truly intent on entering the room. Then if they actually tried the door, it would be locked. It would cause enough of a disruption that no one would walk into the room unannounced and overhear their conversation.

"I must regretfully inform you that there has been… an unexpected setback… with the India School," he announced.

"Setback?" Minerva questioned; her voice sharp. The Gryffindor Head disapprovingly peered over her spectacles at him, wearing the all too familiar expression that had haunted and hounded him since his very first class with her. The look could only be described as a very resigned _What the Bloody Hell did you do NOW, Severus Snape_?

"Oh dear, Severus," Albus chimed in. "Did they move and fail to leave a forwarding address again? That's most inconsiderate of them."

For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to inform the whimsical, maddening Albus that yes, India had moved their school to somewhere west of the Himalayas as they were weary of being bothered by a roving band of Yetis, and in their haste to escape India had failed to forward the necessary Change of Address parchments to the International Agency of Owl Posts. But there was a sharp look in Albus' eyes that made Severus certain that his sardonic quip would make Albus less than chuffed. Therefore, he had to tell the truth.

"They will not be attending." He kept his voice calm, not wanting to show his inner distress to anyone, and especially not Albus and _**Minerva**_.

"Why not?" Minerva asked. "Do you think they'll change their mind?"

"The Head Mistress conversed with me through my mirror. She caught me as I was shaving. I was not expecting her, so I did not cover my…" he paused, and placed his right hand on his left forearm. Severus ceased talking, and he was ashamed that he had to swallow in order to regain his composure. "She called me… _**Nāga**_. The Cadre has decided not to allow further conversation between our two schools."

_**Nāga**_ wasn't just a snake, Severus knew. For the survivors of the Kali Massacre, a _**Nāga**_ was a betrayer, murderer, outcast unclean.

How right they were.

* * *

Minerva silently cursed the fickle fates, and then gave an inquiring look towards Albus. 

"What do you recommend that we do now, Albus?" She softly questioned.

The Head Master was staring intently at his steepled fingers, and said not a word. Inwardly growling while outwardly remaining the very picture of serenity, Minerva recognized that sign. For a moment, the witch strongly wished that Severus wasn't present so she could have a proper row with Albus. The Head Master was mutely informing her that she had to handle the situation with Severus on her own as Filius was unavailable for consult.

Ablus was treating this as a bloody test!

"I'll recuse myself. I'm not one for rabbitting with wizards and witches who will no doubt spend most of their time attempting to impress each other with how wonderful and talented they are," the boy offered in a wry tone.

For good measure, Severus rolled his eyes, and gave the impression of being thoroughly disgusted by the vanities of other wizards.

Minerva reacted instinctively, as she unexpectedly saw through the boy's charade.

Severus had been cooperative with the event she had first nicknamed Filius' Folly, and he had seemed interested in who the various invitations were being sent and why. The Slytherin actually _**wanted**_ to attend, she realized. That said a great deal considering that the boy only attended the Staff Holiday Party because Filius and Albus twisted both of the boy's arms.

"If India doesn't want to attend, they don't want to attend. I, for one, did not think India would attend. They've gotten quite insular over the years, and haven't left their mountains for decades. I, for one, say it's their loss. Don't you dare think that you're weaseling your way out of this, Severus Tobias Snape."

Minerva deliberately put a good bit of snap in her response. The boy wouldn't take soft, comforting words from her. No, Severus Snape would prefer astringency to sweetness. "If I have to get you to the Quidditch pitch by Wand Point for the party, I _**will**_ do so."

Severus Snape mockingly retorted, "Alas, Minerva, you saw through my best laid plans to remove myself from this... insanity."

She snorted loudly, and Severus returned his usual dyspeptic look in response. They were volleying shots back and forth like that Muggle game… golf? No… _**tennis**_.

'You need to try harder," she sniped, before slamming her next series of retorts over the net with a fierce backhand for the win. "Your effort lacked your usual finesse. Dare I state my firm conviction that you're getting sloppy, Severus? A Hufflepuff first year would be less obvious."

That final quip succeeded in driving a muttering Severus Snape from the Staff Room. He exited the room with a swirl of billowing black robes and a very loud slam from the door as Minerva had utterly won their exchange. The witch settled back in her chair, and she pursed her lips in annoyance as she raised her cup to her lips.

Her tea was now cold. Minerva could easily reheat it, but it just wouldn't taste the same. Aware that Albus was watching her, she decided to brew a new cup before she spoke to him.

Let the bastard wait, she thought.

"Well?" Minerva tartly questioned after she was once again sitting in her chair, determined to savor her biscuit and a hot cuppa. "Did I pass your exam, _**Professor**_ Dumbledore?"

Damnable Dumbledore laughed, and she wondered the propriety of conjuring an invisible needle to prick the Head Master's arse. Sometimes, she truly regretted being an instructor, as there was all that bloody decorum that her job demanded.

"O for Outstanding, Miss McGonagall. I don't believe that Filius could have handled that delicate situation with your deft but still unholy mixture of compassion heavily laced with sarcasm," Albus announced. "Don't glare like that, Minerva. Severus will respond differently to you than he will to Filius or me. He'll take orders from me, suffer your biting sarcasm and accept compassion from Filius. Now, with regards to India?"

Minerva rubbed her aching temples before she responded.

"Filius stated his willingness to help us with your curriculum review by the contacting the other schools. I could ask him to speak to India, and risk them revealing our plans."

Albus shook his head after she finish speaking.

"Yes, Albus, that was my opinion also. Therefore, I'll make the effort to speak to them. I suspect that they have made their school name, the address and the Head Mistress' name Taboo. That's the only magical technique I know that would have made them been aware that Severus and I were attempting to contact them. If they used Severus' mirror to contact him, there will be some magical residue left. By reversing the spell, seeking out the school and repeating the name of the school, the Head Mistress and the Vice Head Master's full names in a never ending loop, they may decide to respond just to shut me up."

"Your voice repeating over and over again? That's truly _**inspired**_, Minerva. Their Watchers will be unable to focus on anything besides you. Now, I'd like to make a few suggestions, if I may?" He waited for her brusque nod before continuing. "The school was betrayed from within by a staff member, so I believe that is part of the reason why they reacted so strongly to Severus' tattoo. You should assure them that Severus Tobias Snape has the full and unconditional trust of Filius and me. Use my full name when you tell them that as it'll mean more."

He leaned forward, and she found herself moving closer to him.

"But the problem is, Minerva," he conspiratorially whispered. "How do you plan on getting into Severus' bathing chambers to use his mirror? Hmmm?"

The opportunity to tweak Albus' beard was too good to let slip by. Plus her cuppa was getting cold, and she wanted Albus to sulk long enough for her to finish it while it was still lukewarm.

"Magic," she whispered.

* * *

Later that evening, Filius Flitwick was methodically layering the first level of protective charms on the Great Hall when the Weasley Twins arrived. The red heads greeted him, and eagerly waited for further instructions. Their eyes were sparkling with uncontained glee, and Filius sighed at the sheer potential for trouble. 

_**I'm too old to lead a rebellion. I'm far too old to deal with the unleashed mischief of the Weasley Twins. I'm one hundred and eighty years old. Why, why, why, did I agree to this insanity?**_

His inner voice sternly reminded him that he was the one that had decided to start the rebellion.

"Stand where you are," he brusquely ordered the twins. Flitwick had instructed them long enough to know that as long as you gave the Twins specific instructions, they wouldn't get into trouble. It was only when you left them unattended for thirty seconds that you'd return to find your students covered in boils. "I need to cover the Hall with several protection spells. Do _**NOT**_ take the fireworks out just yet. I don't want to set them off accidentally."

He continued to draw intricate charms with his wand, and various cascading layers of red, orange, blue, violet and what could only be described as off shade of puce, settled upon the Great Hall. The colors ebbed and flowed like the current of a river making for a very surreal experience. With a quick, pulling gesture of his left hand, the spell layers settled together, turned a fiery orange with a noticeable click and then faded.

"_**Wicked**_!" The twins exclaimed in unison.

Wicked? The twins' tone seemed to be complimentary, but Filius wasn't sure.

"Wicked? I supposed declaring that Doctorate Levels Charm work is evil is how you students say something is… _**smart**_?" Filius doubtfully quipped.

A voice from behind the twins answered, and the Charms Instructor broadly smiled when he recognized Minerva.

"Yes, wicked _**is**_ a compliment. Unless they're Slytherins describing Severus, then wicked is considered a term of endearment," Minerva quipped.

The twins laughed, even Filius' mustache twitched as he tried not to smile at Minerva's witticism. The witch gave the Weasley Twins a most fearsome glare, suitable for shaming dragons. "You repeat that to _**anyone**_ and you will have detention until your sister's grandchildren graduate. Believe me, I _**will**_ know."

Fred and George settled down immediately as they knew that Minerva spoke the truth. Severus soon entered the room, looking for all the world as though he wished to be elsewhere. He greeted both Professors, deliberately ignored the Weasleys and was about to spellcast the Great Hall Door into locking when Rolanda Hooch popped into the room.

She then locked the door behind her much to the obvious confusion of Severus, Minerva and Filius. Hooch then turned to face them.

"No one's getting out the Hall until I find out what's going on," the Flying Instructor insisted.

"Rolanda, I explained to everyone that I was working on a high level charm and I wished to use the Great Hall for practice. I even cleared the use of the hall with _**Dolores**_," Filius calmly responded.

That reply earned a roll of Rolanda's yellow eyes.

"Oh please, Filius. You three are up to something. Pomona and Poppy know what it is, but they won't tell the rest of the Instructors. Therefore, I was recruited to interrupt this meeting and find out the truth," the flight instructor stated firmly.

Ro then gestured and a chair positioned itself behind her. She sat down in front of the door and determinedly crossed her arms.

"Now please explain. I'm supposed to believe that you are practicing a high level charm, Filius? With Minerva and SEVERUS? I might have believed that." The witch's mouth grimaced as she expressed her utter disbelief about that idea. "But the WEASLEY TWINS? The _**WEASLEY TWINS**_? Have you gone barking mad, man?"

The twins appeared distinctively displeased that Rolanda thought so badly of them.

"We needed someone to clean up the mess," Filius calmly explained, even as the twins muttered disparaging comments about Madam Hooch to one another. "They've got detention. We're using them as free labor, Rolanda."

The witch snorted, and rocked back in her chair.

"You two, over in the corner, I wish to speak to my fellow Instructors," Rolanda snapped to the twins, who decided for once to obey without any backtalk.

Filius muttered a soft charm so the twins could not overhear the conversation, much to their obvious disappointment. It was doubtful that the boys would be able to break that particular enchantment, but Filius thought it best to keep the discussion brief. Else the twins would get bored and create chaos.

"What if your fellow instructors do not feel the need to talk to you?" Severus questioned. He took one step closer to Rolanda, and the witch paled slightly, but determinedly sat her ground.

"Septima, Bathsheba, Wilhelmina, Aurora, Charity and I want to know. We're never let in on any of the fun around here," Rolanda stated with a slight whine.

"What? Sybill isn't interested in what I'm doing?" Filius questioned Minerva in a very wry tone. The Charms Instructor shrugged his shoulders. "I feel _**hurt**_. Distinctly hurt."

Severus inserted, "Professor Trelawney doesn't need to ask as her Inner Eye has informed her of the truth. Filius is practicing Charms and is utilizing the Great Hall as a practice area."

Minerva's faced twitched slightly as his comment, so Severus gave himself one point. Divination was a complete waste of time per Minerva, though he always wondered if it was because Divination had been the only class in which the brilliant Minerva McGonagall hadn't received an O. A string of O's ruined by that lonely little D in Divination might sour a soul.

"It's Friday night, Severus, Sybill's in the bottom of a sherry bottle and her Inner Eye is seeing four of everything," dryly retorted Hooch. The hawkfaced Flying Instructor sighed like Sybill about to make a proclamation and then she continued. "Look, the six of us believe that you three are working against Umbridge. We desire to help you in your noble endeavor."

"The three of us acting against the High Inquisitor?" Severus Snape questioned in a very slow drawl. "Madam Hooch, you shouldn't say such things. Are you sure we can be…"

He paused to give additional emphasis to his next word. Fear could be induced with the most common of words, it just relied completely on one's tone.

"_**Trusted**_?" Severus whispered that word, and waited for the reaction.

To his delight, Hooch nervously swallowed, and then looked at Minerva, then Filius for support. Receiving none, she lastly looked at Severus.

"Yes, because the only other explanation for why you three are spending so much time together was that you're having a rather torrid threesome." Hooch was a former Beater, so she refused to display the slightest bit of fear after her first lapse. No, instead she was full steam ahead when she spat out that tasty tidbit.

Filius laughed and applauded. Meanwhile Minerva and Severus were not saying a single word.

"Tell Septima that she was in fact, _**correct**_. Minerva, Severus and I are having a tawdry little affair. The two of them are first-rate to an old man," Filius growled. "But right now, I'm practicing, and you're using up my limited time."

Hooch jumped out of her chair, and leapt toward Flitwick. She put her hands on her hips and stared down at the Charms Instructor, who calmly returned her gaze.

"You three are _**not**_ having an affair. It's a well documented fact that the _**very**_ idea of Severus and Minerva shagging is one of the Known Signs of Approaching Apocalypse," protested Hooch.

"What is _**that**_ supposed to mean?" Severus quietly questioned.

Rolanda loudly laughed, and started explaining. "Please, Severus. Min is a _**hedonist**_, not a _**masochist**_."

"I am _**NOT**_ a hedonist," Minerva stridently protested. "You take that back, right now! I can tell tales out of school about YOU, Ro."

"I am not _**sadistic**_," Severus disagreed, but his quiet protests were drowned by Minerva's rather vocal protestations that she wasn't a hedonist.

"So, we thought maybe she _**was**_ having an affair with the two of you. But she and Filius aren't acting like they did when they were lovers. Min always looks like a cat in the cream after she has been shagged, and Filius whistles more after he's been busy snogging."

"I like music," Filius retorted. "I am the Musical Director of Hogwarts after all, Ro. It's not that unusual for me to whistle."

"As I was saying, Filius and Min aren't acting like they're getting sex. And you, Severus Snape…" For a moment, Rolanda paused, which made Severus feel distinctively uneasy. "You are entirely too terrifying to be getting any. If you ever dropped trow, Severus, especially with that scowl you're giving me, your bed buddy would drop dead in fright. Plus the very idea of you and Minerva shagging is ludicrous You two can't even be in the same room without supervision, let alone the _**same**_ bed."

"Oh, Ro, you can assure the ladies that I can referee both of them if it's necessary," Filius dryly inserted. "And Severus would truly surprise you if you knew him as well as I do. You should apologize for calling him a sadist, Severus can be extremely gentle."

Filius then whistled a merrily little tune and Minerva made an attempt to appear blissfully content. Severus, on the other hand, just appeared much like he normally did, dyspeptic and unamused.

"Trust me, I know, Rolanda." The Charms Instructor squeaked in his sincerity. "Potions Masters have very skilled hands."

"An unexpected bonus of the occupation," Minerva inserted. "Along with nimble and dexterous fingers."

That stopped Rolanda dead in her tracks, and she nervously glanced at a purring, content Minerva, an expressionless Severus and then lastly at a very amused Filius.

"You three can't be…Merlin, my head…it's going to explode as I can't get that mental image out of my mind," she moaned. "If it was just you and Filius, Min, I wouldn't believe you as I know you two. But... Severus, he's not denying it! It must be true! Where did you get a bed big enough for all _**three**_ of your egos?"

"Ro, get a grip. We're not wearing out any mattresses. Dolores Umbridge is the true sign of the looming Apocalypse," Minerva inserted, as she didn't want Rolanda's head to explode. "I think we can trust Ro and her associates, Filius. Binns and Sybill can't be entrusted with the truth, nor can Hagrid after he returns."

"Does anyone know what Binns got on his evaluation?" Hooch questioned, attempting a strategic retreat. "That's the other issue I was sent to investigate."

"He got a D," Severus dryly inserted. "For _**Deceased**_."

Rolanda Hooch who had faced many a Beater without showing the slightest bit of fear, turned pale, and hugged herself.

"It _**IS**_ the Apocalypse. Severus Snape just made a _**joke**_!" She stated, her voice shaking. "You three are shagging and Severus is turning into a comic! Merlin's Bloody Beard! It's the _**END TIMES**_!"

"Bloody hell, Rolanda, calm down," snapped Minerva. 'Yes, the three of us are working against Dolores. We're using the Weasley Twins as part of our Nefarious Plan to Drive Dolores Barking Mad. That's the Merlin honest truth, Ro, Filius, Severus and I are _**not**_ shagging. You and the rest of the ladies simply can not help us, Rolanda."

"Why not?" Rolanda protested, her loud voice raucous. "Don't you think we're capable?"

"Rolanda, if we're sacked, someone will need to be here to protect the students," inserted Filius. "It all comes down to that, the students must be _**protected**_. If the three of us are gone, go to Pomona for further instructions."

Hooch shook her head and protested, "She can't get rid of you three. I can only ride a broom, I'm nowhere in your league. You're the best instructors Hogwarts has. No one can flick a wand like you, Flitwick...and Minerva, no one can teach transfiguration like you… and Severus… well… Severus."

The dark haired Slytherin raised one eyebrow, obviously breathless in anticipation on what compliment Hooch was about to bestow upon him. He raised both eyebrows in consternation when it became apparent to everyone that Rolanda was fishing and fishing hard for something positive to say in reference to Severus.

"No one can scare a student quite like Severus can!" The Flying Instructor then beamed like a crazed loon, believing that Severus would be complimented.

"Thank you," Snape dryly commented. "It's a _**sadistic**_ skill that I've honed over the years."

"No, lad, you're a natural," Rolanda snarkily retorted. "So now that I know what the reason is behind the secret meetings of the Unholy Trinity of Hogwarts, can I see what you're working on tonight?"

The Unholy Trinity held a brief, wordless discussion. Filius nodded his head, Minerva had suggested the idea and so Severus waved his hand in approval.

"Fireworks," Filius tersely explained. "I'm just started to layer the Great Hall in protective spells. You can watch, Ro. Minerva and Severus, I'll need your help."

"I'll help!" Rolanda volunteered eagerly. The witch whipped out her wand; Filius then gently grabbed it and pointed the wand point towards the floor where it would do the least amount of damage.

Filius was a brave, brave wizard, Sev admitted. The Slytherin would rather be boiled in oil alive then attempt that stunt with Rolanda Hooch.

"No," Filius delicately stated his refusal. "I need someone with a lighter touch on their wand."

"I got a NEWT in Charms," protested Rolanda. "I can help!"

Severus looked at Minerva and mouthed, "_She got a __**NEWT**__? How?"_ and Minerva shrugged her shoulders to indicate her own confusion and disbelief that Rolanda Hooch had achieved a NEWT. A Charms NEWT usually entailed a sensitivity and delicacy that Roland lacked. Filius said nothing, which meant that even after all these decades; the wizard still had yet to determine how Rolanda had pulled a NEWT in his class.

"You can't help, remember? You can't know anything about this," Minerva reminded the entirely too eager Rolanda. "You can watch. That's it, so that way if anything happens to us, you can tell Pomona all that we did."

Rolanda brightened immediately. "That's right! I need to watch what you're doing in case Pomona needs me to repeat it for her."

Hooch then went over to join the twins, thankfully not seeing the Unholy Trinity's horror filled faces.

* * *

"We'll need one of us to use a one-way ward, which will allow him or her to light them." Filius informed Minerva and Severus as the three of them stared at the box of Reduciod Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. So much potential for chaos rested in that small, wooden box. "The rest of us will be behind three layers of double sided wards." 

Severus was of the very firmly held opinion that the Weasley Twins should light their own firecrackers.

First of all, these were _**their**_ fireworks. They had assembled and crafted them, which meant that they had taken a shortcut somewhere... no doubt just to see what would happen.

Secondly, if something happened to one of the Twins, there was always a spare.

Thirdly, he had no doubt that Arthur Weasley's all too prolific loins would be able to sire another lack-witted, fumble fingered red-headed terror to burst forth from Molly Weasley's fertile womb.

Naturally, that's when _**Minerva**_ agreed to light the fireworkds.

Bloody hell, he couldn't stand behind Flitwick's wards and let the Gryffindor Head blow herself up. The Slytherin House prided itself on its gallantry, after all. Savagely, he crushed his inner voice that reminded him of the last time he tried to be noble in reference to Minerva McGonagall. He had ended up with his pride in shreds, and horribly humiliated. But the thought of Minerva being badly injured due to a faulty firework quieted the voice. There was no way he'd let Minerva get physically hurt while he stood behind a ward.

"No, you're not. I'll light the fuses," he found himself saying. The Slytherin overrode Minerva's protests easily. "I'm quite use to explosions as I teach potions to Neville Longbottom. Also, I'm somewhat younger than you two. I can't have you and Filius bouncing all over the Great Hall like a bunch of excited pygmy puffs, as that will no doubt be _**messy**_. You'll break a bone or three, and that means that I'd be required to take over your classes until you were well."

Minerva's mouth twitched and she looked at Filius. "Did we _**both**_ get insulted just now?"

"Yes, Min, we did, but quick, let's hurry behind the wards before he changes his mind," Filius insisted. "We'll save our pride by pretending that the boy might actually _**care**_ what happens to us. That is why he offered to light the fuses."

Minerva and Flius both innocently smiled at a scowling Severus. Yes, he did care, in his own small way, why the big deal?

The two mages quickly walked to where Rolanda and the twins were standing. The red heads were almost bouncing in their giddied excitement, and Severus snarled. His grimace didn't even faze them, so instead he decided to have a possible final conversation with Filius.

"I'll be able to hear you through these wards, correct?" Severus questioned.

"Yes. Remember stunning them causes an explosion. If two of the fireworks meet they mate and create something new. Are you sure about this, Severus? I can get Poppy down here," Filius' voice held a touch of concern.

"A few seconds won't matter either way," Severus decided. "Sooner started, sooner ended. I won't be able to ward completely when I set off the fireworks."

"I thoroughly checked them, so they should work fine when they're separate. The problem is that I'm not sure what will happen when they start reacting to each other in various combinations, so please, Severus, be careful. I've spent far too much time turning you into a decent chess player for me to have to teach someone else."

Severus gave Filius a brief smile.

"That's so touching," he drawled. "I might actually believe that you _**cared**_ what happens to me, Filius."

"I'm such a sentimentalist," Filius dryly quipped. "It's a great failing of mine. Now, I'm putting the first ward up. It will separate us from you, Sev. Then I'll add two more layers. When they're settled, I'll give you the sign to start lighting the fireworks."

Filius quickly and efficiently set up the wards and then signaled Severus to start the conflagration.

Death by Weasley Fireworks, Severus dryly thought. What a way to die.

* * *

The Reduciod fireworks were working properly, Filius noticed happily. Small dragons and bats flew around the Great Hall, bounced off his wardings and continued to fly. Rolanda was having far too much fun as the witch applauded and shrieked in glee at the various affects. She even poked Minerva in the ribs at a particularly impressive display, which caused Minerva to wince. Sparklers were lit, and then they industriously spelled out naughty words in miniature, and Minerva hissed in disapproval at one particular word that flashed in multicolored hues. The twins flinched, expecting the much feared Wrath of Minerva McGonagall to come crashing down upon their heads. 

"You spelled it _**incorrectly**_! For _**shame**_, boys! Do it properly or not at all! Have some _**PRIDE**_ in your work," Minerva declared in ringing tones.

"We had a slight problem with that as we couldn't get the final E to work," Fred admitted. "We were hoping Professor Flitwick could make a suggestion or three?"

"You know, I might be interested in a few of those sparklers, boys," Rolanda admitted. "Can you have them spell anything? I had an idea, but we'll talk later."

"Why yes, we can create specialized sparklers. You understand, only for you," Fred said.

"For you, Madam Hooch, they'll be at cost," George finished.

Severus continued to light the fireworks, and soon, minute, hot pink Catherine's Wheels were racing among the silver rockets.

_**BANG! **_

A Catherine's wheel hit a silver rocket, merged, mated and then produced a dozen mini flying pigs flying around the room. The pigs even let loose a chorus of high pitched oinks.

"They OINK!" Hooch shouted, before loudly applauding. "Wonderful boys! Wonderful!"

"Try to vanish them!" Filius suggested; his shrewd mind busy analyzing the fireworks on a magical level.

The boy nodded his head to show that he heard, and then the wizard began to methodically vanish each of the various types of fireworks. As expected, the fireworks multiplied, and Filius nodded his head approvingly.

"Good work, lads. Now comes the kicker. Severus? Would you mind attempting to stun one of each?"

Severus took aim and attempted to stun a Catherine's Wheel. Unfortunately a flock of migrating, oinking flying pigs bounced off one of the wards and ricocheted into the line of fire. A dozen small pigs began to explode which in turn created complete pyrotechnical chaos in a matter of seconds. The Slytherin was flung across the room by the resulting force of the combined explosion where he hit Flitwick's barrier hard with a loud crack, and limply slid to the floor. Those behind the ward stared at the prone form in horror and disbelief. Well, most of them were staring in horrified disbelief, as naturally, the Weasley Twins kept everything in perspective.

"Oi! George, I think he's going to be mad!" Fred shouted.

"Unless he's dead," George answered. "Then Snape the Spectre will haunt us forever!"

"Either way, we're _**doomed**_," Fred continued, his bright mind focusing on the obvious.

"Though if he's dead, I'm sure thousands of Hogwarts alumnae might be willing to chip in for our defense lawyer," George finished.

Filius brought the wards down quickly, expertly extinguishing the fireworks even as Rolanda, Minerva and the twins ran toward the non-moving Severus Snape. Naturally, the athletic Rolanda reached the prone Potions Master first. She carefully opened one of his eyes, and then checked the next even while she asked him numerous questions. Severus moaned slightly in response to her questions.

"Concussion," she authoritatively announced, having experienced the wrong end of a Beater's bat on more than one unhappy occasion. "He'll be fine, but he got his bell rung hard."

"I'm getting Poppy," announced Filius. "_Expecto Patronum!"_

His Patronus, a silvery eagle, emerged from his wand and was instructed to get Madam Pomfrey post haste. The eagle then flew up the chimney in the Great Hall to reach Poppy's fireplace. Filius ran toward the crowd around Severus, who was attempting to sit.

"I'm ffffin," Severus groggily protested. "Prof'fssr McGongle?"

The boy was staring up at Minerva in wild eyed fascination. His dark eyes were glazed and there was a thin streak of blood running from his hooked nose. The Potions Master looked as thought he had been ridden hard, and hung up wet.

"Yes?" Minerva softly questioned.

"Ssuse mee. Homewrk got et by a dwagggon. Big dwagon." Severus slurred, he then sniffed deeply, and mumbled something unintelligible.

"What did he say?" Filius questioned.

"Erumpent?" Minerva repeated. Her voice sounded confused.

"Ah, and mixing Erumpet fluid with the essence of Ashwind eggs caused the explosion," Filius explained. "Don't let the boy stand, Min! And don't use magic! If he's befuddled, he might believe that he's under attack and he'll react accordingly."

Severus naturally didn't listen to them, and so the next few minutes were chaotic as everyone was unsuccessfully attempting to keep Severus prone. Lacking the physical strength needed to keep the boy under non-magical control, Flitwick refrained from intervening. It was then that he felt a freezing sensation, as though he was soaked in cold water.

"Flitwick," whispered a ghostly female voice. "Beware, _**she**_ comes. The Castle shook just now and she is investigating."

It was the Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw Ghost. Flitwick had asked her to keep an eye on Umbridge.

"Thank you, Helena," he whispered. As Ravenclaw Head, he knew actually who the ghost was, what her relationship to Rowena truly was, and he made a practice to always speak to her kindly. "Can you get Peeves to distract her? We need time to get Severus out of here."

"I'll ask, but I'm not sure if he'll help. He is…" The ghost shrugged her non-existent shoulders.

"Peeves, I know," Flitwick finished. "Tell him that the Head of Slytherin House needs his assistance. Maybe that will convince him. Thank you."

The ghost floated away, and Flitwick began casting spells. He needed to freshen the air, remove the charred flooring, and he needed to remove all the minute traces of them from the room. By the time he was done, it would be as though they had never been in the room.

"Min! Umbridge is heading this way. We can't wait for Poppy. I can't think of a decent explanation why Hooch and the twins would be here," he calmly stated. "Ro? Did he break anything?"

"No, Sev just has a concussion," Ro announced. "No worse than if he got hit in the head with a bludger."

"Can you help him walk? There's a secret passageway from here that will take us to the Dungeon."

The twins' eyes lit up in glee. "Secret passage to the dungeon?" They whispered. "It's not on the map."

"It can only be accessed if you're a Hogwarts Professor," Flitwick retorted, even as he wondered what map of Hogwarts the twins had managed to nick. But that was a problem for another day. "You will never be an instructor if you don't pass your NEWTS."

The thought of the twins being Hogwarts Professors was a frightening one, and Filius vowed to be long retired before that horrific day ever arrived. He flicked his wand, and a small door appeared behind the Staff table. The door opened with a creak and Filius motioned to the boys.

"Go!" Flitwick ordered. "You'll find yourself on the fifth floor. You'll appear behind the set of armor there. Make sure no one sees you! Hurry! Before Umbridge arrives."

"What about Professor Snape?" Fred retorted.

"We'll handle him. Do you really desire to be there when he wakes?"

"Professor Flitwick is correct as always," George inserted, as he pulled his brother toward the door. "Time for a strategic retreat."

He closed the door after them, and muttered a new incantation. A larger door appeared, and he heard someone attempting to open the door to the Great Hall. Minerva had gotten Severus to his feet, and was half carrying, half dragging the concussed Potions Master towards the door. Rolanda was assisting Minerva and a dizzy Severus had one arm looped around her neck. Meanwhile, Dolores Umbridge's voice was loudly announcing that something dreadful had no doubt happened to Professor Flitwick in the Great Hall, and that she needed someone to open the door.

Charity Burbage offered, and Filius knew that Charity could easily open the door, even with Rolanda's spell on the lock. Damn it, was Dolores that aware of her limitations as a witch that she would not even attempt to open the door?

"Why do you think something happened to Filius?" Charity asked, her voice full of concern.

"There was a loud bang, and it came from here!" Dolores stridently insisted. "He could be injured! He could be dead!"

"Did someone think to call Poppy?" questioned Charity.

"Does Miss Charity need help in opening the door? Peeves is here!" chortled the poltergeist.

The door rattled as Peeves decided to help in his own fashion. The resulting splash of water seemed to suggest that Peeves' idea of helping was throwing large water balloons at the Great Hall Door. There was a loud scream so it seemed that Dolores Umbridge had gotten splashed.

"Peeves would like to say he's sorry! But that's a lie!" Peeves snickered.

"Hurry!" Flitiwck hissed.

The four of them had barely entered the doorway before he was flicking his wand to bespell the Great Hall Door to stick when it was finally opened. He casted the secret door closed, his wand providing enough light for them to see in the dark corridor. The Great Hall Door opened very slowly with a noticeable squeak.

"That's odd, I thought it was locked. But it's just sticking." Charity announced. She then called out, "Filius? Are you alright?"

"Come along!" Filius whispered. "We need to get Severus to his chambers."

Minerva barely refrained from breaking into a wide smile. It appeared that she had gotten an invitation into Snape's quarters after all.

* * *

It was the first time Minerva had ever entered Severus' personal rooms. Unlike most of the Professors' rooms, his living area was tidy to a fault. His marking waiting to be corrected was in a neat pile on his desk. There were two quills and an inkwell also on the desk. There were hundreds of books neatly aligned on the bookshelves, a small sofa, and that was it. No knickknacks in his living area, nothing that wasn't hopelessly utilitarian and plain. She had stayed in hotels that had been homier than this. 

"Rolanda? Go find Pompy," Filius insisted. "Minerva and I will get him to bed."

Severus mumbled something which sounded like 'zoo cottle', so Minerva guessed that he still was concussed. He was making an effort to stand under his own power, which was a good thing. Considering Filius had warned her on how tetchy Severus was when it came to being touched by magic, she had physically manhandled his scrawy arse down that long, twisting corridor, only to discover that his arse wasn't as scrawny as she had once believed it to be.

Which was of far greater comfort than the other likely reason.

She was getting too old to drag young men to their bed chambers.

"Yes, I'll get the blue bottle. After we get you to bed, Severus. Can you stand?" Filius questioned.

Nod of Severus' head was his only response, and Rolanda let go. Fortunately, Minerva kept her arm firmly around him as he would have fallen flat on his face. As it was, he only swayed slightly, and the boy mumbled something.

"Aye, you can kill them, later, Severus. You're in no condition to do it now." The Charms Instructor spoke in a very soothing tone. "Ro? You still here? Get Poppy!"

"Aye, aye!" Rolanda answered, as she sped out the door.

His bedroom was even bleaker than his living room was. A small wardrobe, a bed, and a small chest of drawers filled the room. Oddly, there was a comfortable looking chair next to the bed, and it seemed to make the rest of the room shabbier by contrast. There were a few exotic looking plants that were placed in the windows sills in order to catch the meager amount of sunlight that entered the room. There were two photos on the chest and that was it. Severus made a beeline to his bed, and he sat on the edge. He started to fumble with the buttons on his jacket, and Filius gently slapped his hands.

"You'll pop the buttons off. Let me do it," Flitwick gently ordered. His soft command earned a nod from Severus.

Minerva stood behind Filius, wishing she could be of some assistance.

"Min? There's a small blue bottle in the bathroom closet. It will be on the second shelf from the top, and it will be on the right. Can you get it?" Filius requested.

"Absolutely," she answered, and she made a beeline to Severus' bathroom.

His bathing chamber was austere. That was the only way to describe his bathroom. No rugs on the cold tile floor, she noticed, and Minerva shivered. She hated walking on cold tile, but Severus apparently had a rather spartan idea of comfortable living. She caught her reflection in the mirror as she walked towards the closet.

The _**mirror**_.

She touched it carefully, feeling a faint touch of magic residue. Sharpening her senses considerably, Minerva was able to detect that the magical aura radiating from the mirror was not from Severus. No, it was... female... and distinctively not a Hogwarts' trained witch, though she detected a pinch of Flitwick's training in the casting.

_**Aha!**_

"Tsk, tsk, are we up to something?" Her reflection dryly questioned.

"Aren't we always, dear?" Minerva retorted.

She grabbed the blue bottle and returned back to find Poppy was in the room. The Mediwitch was briskly rattling off questions.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" She asked, holding up both hands with only her right index upright.

Severus muttered a response that sounded incorrect, and then Poppy began a barrage of questions. Severus failed her questions miserably, and the medi-witch shook her head. She then made an intricate gesture with her wand, read the results of the diagnostic spell and she glanced at Filius.

"He's in a world of hurt, as his brain bounced off his skull a few times. I'll give him a few potions specifically made for concussions..." Poppy paused. "They'll make him rather mellow, Filius."

"What if he's summoned?" Filius questioned. "I do not want Severus facing He Who Must Not Be Named when Sev is feeling... mellow... Can I use the potion? He requested it."

"I hate using that particular potion, Filius. He's already built up an immunity to most of my standard cure alls. You promise me that you'll only use it if he's summoned?"

"I so swear," Filius easily assured her. "Would a wizard oath from me make you happy, Poppy?"

"No, I trust you." Poppy sighed. "You know the drill. Wake him every two hours. If the headache increases in severity, contact me. If..."

"He begins to vomit, twitch or seize I am to immediately contact you. If he believes that he's the Wizard Witchmate for the September issue of Witchgirl, I will most assuredly contact you."

"You know the drill better than most med-witch students," Poppy teased.

"Been through it enough," Filius reminded her. Filius sounded resigned rather than snippy.

"Aye, that you have, Filius," softly answered Poppy. She made an effort to be cheery. "I don't believe that Severus will be the Wizard Witchmate for September. With his coloring, he'll probably be October's. Halloween, you know. Witchgirl prefers to match their centerfolds with the holiday."

"I'll take your word on it, Poppy. I'm not into _**that**_," Filius not so innocently retorted. "I prefer my wizards clothed and their wands covered, thank you very much."

"Goodnight Filius, Minerva," Poppy softly replied. She turned to leave.

"Whut 'bout mee?" Severus mumbled from his bed from where he was trying to sit up. "Noo bye?"

"You should be asleep, Severus," tartly retorted the MediWitch. She made an odd hooking gesture with her little finger, and Severus collapsed back into his bed. In a softer tone, she continued. "He'll sleep now, hopefully. Just remember to wake him up every two hours to give him more of the red potion. Minerva, I have to admit that I'm startled to see you here."

"She's been brought in," Filius explained. "I'm getting old and I need the support."

"Tsk, you're not getting old, Filius. You're just fishing for compliments," Poppy teased. "Good, I'm glad you're here, Minerva. Filius has spent far too many nights sleeping in that chair to keep an eye on Severus, so he needs a break. Probably tonight would be an ideal night for Min to sit with him. He's not tetchy..."

"He's not?" Minerva inserted.

"Well, not as **_bad _**as our little Severus can be."

"I was planning on staying here as I haven't explained all of Severus' quirks to Minerva," protested Filius.

"Nonsense, Severus will sleep for most of the night." Poppy firmly disagreed.

"I'm willing," Minerva interrupted. "You and I can discuss this in his living room. But I plan on winning this argument."

* * *

To his credit, Filius Flitwick put up a valiant fight. But she hammered at his defenses and finally won the right to babysit Severus. Filius spent a good thirty minutes with her, detailing what she needed to do if Severus did this, or if he did that. Finally, she had enough. 

"Go, Filius," she ordered, as she pushed him toward the floo. "You look tired."

In response, he rubbed the back of his neck. "I am," Flitwick admitted. "I'm too old to be running a rebellion; Min. Rebellion is for younger witches and wizards."

"Nonsense," the witch crisply retorted. "We need your superior cunning, your analytical mind and your various life experiences in this, Filius. So go, get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Are you sure?" Filius intently questioned.

"Yes," she assured him, as the answer seemed to be truly important to him. "It's always better in the morning, Filius."

He exited via the floor, and Minerva tiptoed, as silent as cat paws, into Severus' bedroom. He appeared deeply asleep, and so she continued until she reached the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, casted a silencing spell, and then she drew out her wand.

The witch tapped it three times on the mirror and began to speak.

"On behalf of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I respectfully send greetings to the India School of Magic, Witchcraft and Wizardry. Minerva Marsaili McGonagall desires to converse with Kritika Veerasundari Mukhopadhyay and Mohammed Shujaat Masood at their convenience regarding Filius Flitwick."

Minerva informed her reflection to keep sending the message until the school responded. That order didn't sit well with her reflection who had already changed into her tartan jimjams for the night.

"Dear, it's not even ten in the evening here, do you have any idea what time it is in India?" Her double pleaded. "I was hoping to make an early evening of it. Neither of us are looking particularly young at the moment, so I thought early to bed, sleep in, get us some much needed beauty sleep."

"Yes, so I gathered from your apparel. I also know that it's about three in the morning there. Keep sending the message until they respond, or until I leave the suite."

"It's really rather rude to send a message at this hour," her double reminded her. "Are you _**sure**_?"

"Yes, I am absolutely sure. Put a special emphasis on Flitwick's name and also the Indian mages' names when you transmit." Her brogue returned in full force as Minerva looked at her reflection. "I expect you to change out of THAT before you send the message. You're representing Hogwarts!"

* * *

For two hours, she sat in the chair, watching Severus sleep. When it was time, she woke Severus to check on him. He was still seemed confused as he didn't question why she was in his bedroom, and he drank the next dosage of medication without a complaint. 

As Minerva had promised not to doze in case the boy needed her, time was dragging slowly and so she decided to investigate his library after he was once again soundly asleep. Surely there must be something of value in which to read, Minerva thought. Quietly, the witch exited the room, and casted a dim light so that she could read the names of the books.

"1,001 Potions, Beginners to Advanced" was one title; "Poultices and Potions, Why Every Decent Practitioner Knows that They Are Not the Same Thing" was another.

Minerva couldn't help but softly growl. Potion books, as far as the eye could see, it was almost as bad as being trapped in a library full of cookbooks! She continued to examine the bookshelves until she noticed something. Or actually, she didn't notice something. That was what drew her attention to the left most bookshelves. It was almost as though her eyes were seeing it, but not.

_**Hmmm... a Glamour and a Repel Spell on a bookshelf? Severus, what are you hiding from Filius?**_

It took some time, but she was able to wiggle underneath the glamour and see the book titles. Every single one book on that shelf was Defense of Dark Arts related, and a few that could only be declared to be Defense related as they were Dark Arts books. Minerva could feel a bitter chill radiating off the books when she held her hand over them. Merlin knew that she'd never dare take one of the books off the shelf, as it was probably tripled hexed.

There was a sound behind her, so she turned around.

Severus was on his feet, blearily staring at her. She stalked toward him, and gave him a very stern look, which seemed to amuse him. Minerva was about to rip him up one side and down the other for being out of bed when Severus leaned over to her, and hesitantly brushed her cheek with his lips.

That done, he returned to dazedly staring at her with wide eyes.

Minerva collected her wits, realized that the boy was sleep walking as he was utterly out of it. Poppy had warned her that this that might be the result of the medication. Severus then put his hands gently on her head just when she was about to push him toward his bed. Her long hair tumbled down her back while he deliberately removed her hairpins. The damnable boy decided to keep one when he removed them, and it was now tightly clenched in his fist. Trying hard not to laugh at how ludicrous the situation truly was, she failed. Merlin's beard, Severus had captured one of her hairpins and was refusing to give it back!

"Come on lad, it's time for you to go to bed," she softly whispered.

It took a few minutes of prodding, but before long, Severus was once again tucked into bed. It was only slightly before midnight, and Minerva knew that it would be a long night indeed.

First thing to do, the witch reminded herself, was get her hair back to rights. With her long black hair unrestrained, she probably looked like a Celt warrior maiden looking for a brawl.

When the Gryffindor Head turned on the light in Severus' bathroom, Minerva realized that she could only wish that she looked that good. Her long mane was wild and uncontrolled, her eyes were tired, and when did the top two bottoms on her shirt get undone? Minerva looked as though she had thrown her clothes on after a jolly good shag!

"Well look what the cat dragged in," her reflection criticized.

"Oh, shut up," Minerva sniped.

"I beg your pardon? You wished to speak to me and now you _**don't**_?"

A dark haired Indian woman stared back at her, Minerva's reflection having vanished. The woman was sitting in a dark, dimly lit office, alone except for a Phoenix. It was a rather worn looking Phoenix, graying and missing an eye, and it was sitting on the backrest of her chair. The claw marks on the worn backrest seemed to suggest that it was a favorite location of the Phoenix.

"My apologies, I was talking to myself. Are you the Indian School of Magic?" Minerva questioned.

"Do you confess to me that you so often harass other people like this that you do not know with whom you are speaking? Yes, Minerva Marsaili McGonagall, I am the Headmistress of the India School of Magic, Witchcraft and Wizardry. I had informed the one that wears the mark of a _**Nāga**_, that there would be no further contact allowed between our schools. Yet far too early this morning you have attempted to not only contact the school, but also myself and the Vice Headmaster, claiming that it is a matter of some urgency regarding Filius Flitwick. I fear to ask you this question, but does Filius Flitwick still walk upon the Earth?"

"Oh, yes! Yes! He's fine," Minerva assured him. "That's why we're trying to contact you."

Kritika let loose with something that only could be Sanskrit Swear Words, and Minerva arched one eyebrow.

"Really, is truly necessary to use _**that **_language?"

"Let us speak freely to one another, Minerva. At five in the morning, it is quite proper," retorted Kritika. "I oversee more than twenty thousand students, and I was not on call this weekend. Yet, the Watchers contacted me because you were being a right nuisance."

Ah, Minerva realized. Someone was a wee bit cranky because her sleep got interrupted. Well, tough, Minerva thought.

"I'll make it quick. Severus has the full trust of both Albus and Filius. In fact, Filius considers him the son of his heart," Minerva explained. "We're trying to throw a surprise party for Filius' 181st birthday and we were wondering if someone from your school might want to make an appearance. It would mean a great deal to Filius."

"I'm well aware of the reason why you attempted to contact us. We might have attended, except for the _**Nāga**_. He is a loner, who wears the mark of the serpent. Among the India School, the lone serpent is a most evil omen, forecasting death. While you speak to me of how Dumbledore and Filius Flitwick think highly of him, it is quite odd that you, yourself, do not give me assurances that you do. Though it is remarkable, he claimed that you were unfamiliar with his quarters, yet, there you are in his rooms, at a most unlikely hour, your hair disheveled, your top buttons on your blouse unbuttoned."

Kritika's arched eyebrow spoke volumes about Minerva and what Kritika believed her personal relationship to Severus was.

"He was injured by one of his students today. I keep watch over him while he sleeps tonight as he had a head injury," Minerva tartly retorted. "As for my word on Severus, you know Albus and you know Filius. You and I have never conversed before tonight. Their words will mean far more to you than mine will, especially since I woke you."

The Phoenix shrieked loudly, and launched itself off the chair back. Kritika then nodded her head.

"This matter will be brought to the vote of the Cadre. Good _**morning**_, Minerva Marsaili McGonagall. Namasté."

With a click, Minerva was left staring at her reflection in the mirror.

"Someone was a wee bit cranky, wasn't she? But at least her hair was presentable," her reflection sniffed. "Unlike someone else I could point out."

"Shut _**up**_," Minerva growled as she stormed out of the bathroom.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer**_: Not my characters. When we left the Unholy Trinity, Fred and George had almost fulfilled every Hogwarts' student's secret wish - to blow up Severus Snape.

* * *

A very intense light. 

A deafening explosion.

That's all Severus remembered before he regained consciousness and quickly wished that he hadn't, having found himself being dragged down a long, dusty corridor. He tried not to think too much, as his head was in agony, but still he did. Two very important questions kept popping to the forefront of his aching mind.

_**Who**_ was dragging him?

_**Where**_ were they dragging him?

Severus did not remember ever being in this particular tunnel, and the light, while dim, was too bright, adding additional painful throbbing to his aching head. He couldn't even see who was holding the wand, but it was at a very low height.

He last remembered being in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, but … where was he _**now**_?

Who ever was dragging him was aiming to be gentle, so odds were quite good that it wasn't the Carrows. They'd bump his head on the ground while they dragged him by his ankles. But if it was the good guys, that mutt Black would deliberately conk his head on every low wooden beam while that spineless, pathetic excuse of a werewolf Remus Lupin refused to intervene beyond the shaking of his head in silent disapproval.

"Merlin's beard, the boy's heavier than I thought he was," whispered a female voice. "Always thought he was a slip of a lad with those billowing robes."

"Black's considered slimming, maybe that's why it's all he wears," snarked another female voice.

Maybe it was Narcissa?

Cissy was keen on fashion and was always harassing him to add a splash of color in his wardrobe. Didn't sound like her, plus she would not be dragging him, as that was physical labor, suitable for house elves, not a pure blood.

"Or maybe the boy's in mourning," retorted a male voice. "I swear you two cackle like two old hens."

"Filius… maybe you've forgotten something, Min and I _**are**_ old hens, luv! But seriously, Fi, we need to stop for a moment, I need to readjust him," said the snarky female voice. "His arm is around my neck like the boy is trying to throttle me, and I've got a pinched nerve, Filius. Old Quidditch injury."

_Filius? Filius Flitwick?_

He was safe then. The other woman supported him while the other woman moved him to a more comfortable position.

"Sorry, Ro, I can't physically carry the boy, and using magic on him right now would be suicidal," Filius patiently explained as though he was repeating an explanation to a particularly dense first year. "He'd no doubt attack first and then ask questions."

_Ro? Rolanda Hooch? Maybe I'm not safe after all. Friendly fire has taken out more witches and wizards…..and Rolanda's aim isn't that accurate at the best of times._

"How much longer?"

That was the other female voice.

"A little bit, Min."  
_  
Minerva? Rolanda? I felt significantly safer when I thought it was Cissy.  
_  
"I didn't know about this particular corridor, Filius," Minerva sounded disapproving.

Aha! So, in spite of rumors to the contrary, Minerva didn't know everything after all! He bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling. It was delightful to know that even Minerva wasn't all knowing and infallible. No, that was Albus' role in the universe.

"The Ravenclaw Head knows the castle' secrets," Filius tersely retorted.

"Or at least the ones Rowena created," Ro quipped.

"Guilty as charged. Did the lad come around yet?" softly questioned Filius.

The bright light came closer to him, and Severus realized that Filius was holding the light as high as he could in his upraised hand. That's why the light was so low. Severus tried to answer, but his response was a low, incoherent mumble.

"Don't talk, Severus. About ten more minutes, and you'll be in your suite," the Charms Instructor softly promised.

"It would have been faster for us to Stun Dolores and go the regular route," Rolanda huffed and puffed. "Can you help us out, Severus? Regardless of what you may have been told, I can assure you that you're not made out of gossamer and fairy wings, and you're getting a wee bit heavy."

"Someone needs to get off their broom more," Minerva commented to the world at large.

"Are you saying that I've got a broom butt?" Rolanda hotly questioned.

"You're the one getting winded," Minerva replied, her voice completely free from any nuances, which naturally meant that Minerva had scored on Rolanda. "Not I."

Best thing to do then was just to pretend to be completely out of it. Like hell did he want be known as an eye witness to a cat fight between Hooch and McGonagall. Didn't mean that under normal circumstances he would not enjoy overhearing it, except now their voices would be so shrill, and Merlin's bloody tye dyed tunic, his head hurt as though it was a bell rung by an overly enthusiastic Quasimodo.

The dangerous trio got him to his suite with none the wiser and no more hissing and flying of cat fur. Gratefully, he collapsed onto his bed.

"Blue bottle," he slurred.

Thank Merlin; Filius had tended to him so frequently after Severus had experienced the Dark Lord's tender mercies that the Charms Instructor knew exactly what Severus needed. The Charms Instructor crisply instructed Minerva where to find the potion. Severus needed the blue bottle to put his head to rights, as he'd be easy prey for the Dark Lord if he was summoned as dazed and confused he currently was.

Filius also knew enough not to let him have the potion unless it was an emergency. Over the years, Severus had developed a tolerance to the various fundamental healings potions, requiring him to utilize more and more esoteric components in order to achieve the same results. After Filius helped undress him, as the number of buttons on his black funeral coat had apparently multiplied exponentially, Severus was content to crawl under his bed covers, and he gratefully began to doze.

But he had such weird dreams, no doubt due to a sleeping potion Filius had forced upon him.

_Poppy arrived, gave him a ration and a half for his misdeeds, and then turned into a poppy plant with bright red flowers on which he then proceeded to snack…. _

_He was in a large comfortable bed, Filius, wearing a striped nightshirt plus a tasseled night cap jauntily perched on his head, was on his right and Minerva was on his left, wearing her crooked witch's hat, and tartan jimjams. Rolanda Hooch then blew her referee whistle, giving Slytherin a technical foul for getting fresh with the Head of Gryffindor and he stared at the witch in complete befuddlement. She was dressed in her Quidditch Referee robes, riding her broom... and she was proudly wearing ripped fishnet stockings and stiletto heels…_

_"Severus?" Rolanda questioned. "Do you agree that I've got a broom butt?" _

_He was young again, and he was back at the zoo, desperately trying to find Lily._

_Severus had found something when he had been watching the __**Nāgas**__ and he wanted to show it to his friend. Lily didn't like __**Nāgas, **_as _Lily thought that snakes were evil and creepy and icky and that __**Nāgas**__ were even worse, so she had decided to look at the Panda Bears instead. Trust a girl to think like that, Severus had thought, but wisely never said to Lily. He didn't want her angry with him and risk losing his only friend.  
_  
_No, it was enough that his father was mad at him because he had gone to the zoo with the Evans. Tobias never liked it when Severus played with Lily, as Tobias thought the boy got uppity because the Evans were richer than the Snapes. Tobias was chasing him, as his father was furious; Tobias never really needed a reason to be angry with Severus, besides the simple fact that Tobias was his father. Fearing Tobias' temper and his thick black leather belt, Severus ran as fast as he could._

_Severus knew that he needed to hide; he needed to find a sanctuary, as his father was right behind him. His terror began to overpower him, a panicking, drowning sensation and Severus unwillingly shrieked when he ran into someone… something… hard. He heard a squawk, there were feathers flying everywhere…._

_NO! It was __**Garuda**_

_The half man half eagle who hated __**snakes**__… which meant he hated Severus because if there was ever a boy that was destined to be a snaky, slithering Slytherin, it was Severus Tobias Snape._

_**YOU AGAIN?**__ Garuda thundered in a voice of flame and fire. __**I WON'T ACHIEVE ENLIGHTENMENT IF YOU CONSTANTLY INSIST ON BLOODY INTERRUPTING ME WHILE I'M READING.**_

_Caught between the enemy he knew and feared and the enemy he truly didn't know, but one who Severus believed to be a snake hating, fire breathing mythological creature with razor-sharp claws and a finely honed beak, Severus did what any frightened, badly abused nine year old boy would do.  
_  
_He burst into tears, but Severus still tried to hide them, knowing that the fearsome Garuda would mock his tears. Wiping his tearing eyes on the sleeve of his very best shirt that he had been allowed to wear only because the Evans were taking him to the zoo, he tried not to sniffle. Naturally, his best attempts were due to failure._

_His father was so close, Severus started shaking in his fear and to his surprise, Garuda threw down the book he had been reading and completely engulfed him in his eagle wings. The weeping boy shuddered and trembled when he heard Tobias scream his name and threaten to give Sev what was coming to him. Yet, Garuda held and sheltered him._

_**SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN COME UNTO ME.**_

_The wings were warm and protective, Garuda was stroking Severus' greasy hair with his human hand and Severus drifted to sleep, clutching his most prized possession in his fist. It wasn't __**just**__ a metal hairpin; it was everything that that small pin represented, everything for which the adult Severus had ever secretly yearned and had long since bitterly accepted that he never deserved._

_**Sleep. I will guard you and you will be safe. One can not achieve spiritual illumination if by searching for it, you allow children to be harmed.  
**__  
_Severus might have had other dreams that night, but he didn't remember them upon waking.

Instead, when a disorientated Severus woke, he pondered about what dreams he did remember and wondered about the hair pin that he was tightly clutching in his fist.

* * *

Minerva softly grumbled when she realized that another two hours had gone by, and it was now once again time to confirm that Severus was among the living and pour more of Poppy's potion down his throat. It was quite remarkable that Severus had been such a pleasant patient so far, as it was truly unlike the boy. Severus didn't grouse upon being woken and he accepted the potion without complaint or even a quiet muttered snide comment on how he could have easily improved the taste. Cracking her neck, shuddering in painful delight as her bones realigned themselves, she proceeded to stretch, flick her little cat claws carefully, and then jumped off the couch. 

Transfiguring back to her human form took a moment, as Merlin's beard, she hurt. Even in cat form, Severus' couch was damn uncomfortable. The comfy chair in his bedroom, on the other hand, had been far too relaxing, as she had found herself drifting off into a deep sleep. Changing into her cat form and catnapping on Severus' couch had been the only option if she wanted to get any sleep and still keep watch over Severus. Yes, she could have transfigured the couch into something a little more comfortable, but she was a nurse, not even a guest, in Severus' quarters, and good manners demanded that she not willy nilly transfigure Severus' belongings.

To her surprise, Severus was completely unaware that she was in his quarters, as he was in the process of changing. His wardrobe was open; displaying a neat row of what was probably identical outfits. The boy had apparently taken a shower as he was starkers and there was a wet towel on his bed. Instinctively, she sharply inhaled. The witch's only excuse to defend her gasp of surprise was that Severus did posses a fine arse. Not that anyone would have guessed that tasty tidbit, as Severus had it thoroughly hidden beneath his funeral coat and flowing academic robe.

Severus turned to face her. His face turned white when he realized too late that he was starkers in front of Minerva McGonagall. Minerva did not expect his reaction as the Potions Master didn't reach for his wand, hex her or shout. No, instead he twisted his left arm oddly, no doubt to hide his … _attributes_…, even as his robe flew from the bed to drape itself over his left arm and around his waist.

The boy's hiding his Death Mark tattoo, Minerva realized. He is more ashamed of me seeing that than the fact that he's not wearing a stitch of clothing.

It was clear that Severus was mortified, but his pride demanded that he pretend that he wasn't. His voice was cool and controlled when he was finally composed enough to speak.

"I believed that Filius was playing nursemaid. Please turn around, Minerva. These last two mornings, I have made an unfortunate habit of prancing about buck naked for the lurid enjoyment of mature witches and it is not something that I am truly comfortable doing."

Minerva turned around, faced the bathroom, but since the door was open, the mirror showed her everything that was occurring behind her back. Severus had his back towards her, and he was quickly putting on his pants, but she couldn't help but focus on the crisscrosses of old scars on the boy's back.  
_  
Who gave those to you?_ She wondered, feeling a moment of compassion for Severus_. What did they use? It looks like a belt._

Damn it, Severus would be furious if he realized where she was standing and what she had seen, so she spun around of her heels to find a safe spot in which to focus her eyes.

"_**Mature**_ witches?" Her tone was acidic. Apologizing to Severus would do no good, Minerva knew, so it was best if they verbally sparred.

"Yes, the India Headmistress is probably a contemporary of Albus, so that qualifies her as mature," Severus retorted. "Well, physically mature. _**Emotionally**_? That's another ball of wax."

"I'm not as old as Albus!" Minerva protested. "Kritika isn't that much older than I am. She was Head Girl during Filius' sabbatical there."

Merlin! She sounded like a shrew. An **_OLD _**shrew.

"Aren't all teachers far older than their years in the eyes of their students, no matter how old their students become?" Severus softly drawled.

The Potions Master had deliberately added that little twist to his comment, so Minerva knew full well that he was talking about her. The opportunity to take the mickey out of him was far too tempting to let go unchallenged.

"You're quite correct, Severus. Just the other day, I heard a Hufflepluff first year assure a Ravenclaw firstie in all seriousness that you are at least in your mid seventies. It seems the current rumor making its way through the dorms is that your hair is far too dark to be natural without the use of hair darkening potions." She dryly announced that tidbit, and started mentally counting down, waiting for Severus' irate reaction.  
_  
__**Three…. Two… One….**__  
_  
"Which fumble fingered, lack witted, talentless, brain dead hack said _**THAT**_?"

The anger in his voice combined with the very idea of Severus interrogating every frightened Hufflepuff firstie until he found out who the unfortunate soul had been was entirely too funny. Minerva giggled and then she laughed out loud.

"Merlin's left saggy tit," Severus snapped. "You're _**mocking**_ me."

"No, I'm not, but the chance to tease you was far too tempting, Severus. I'm assuming that you are feeling much better as you are up to sparring?"

He didn't answer her immediately, and then he sniped, "I'm presentable. You can turn around now."

Minerva did so slowly, and she was pleased to see that Severus was blushing slightly when their eyes met. His hand was outstretched towards her, and Severus seemed rather hesitant.

Her eyes then focused on what he held in his hand. It was her hairpin! How much did the boy remember?

"Is this… _**yours**_?" His voice was rather subdued.

"Yes," Minerva tersely admitted. She reached for it, and took it from him, her fingers touching his hand. "Thank you."

"I don't know why I had it," Severus slowly admitted. "Care to enlighten me? Last night is… bit of a blank slate."

"First of all, Severus, you got knocked on your bum by one of the Weasley Fire Crackers."

There! Best start off with the small problems and then work up to the fact that he had kissed her. Or perhaps it would be better not to mention that, as that one small kiss last weekend had caused her previously uncomplicated relationship with Severus to veer into dangerous, uncharted depths.

She ceased talking when Severus growled. It was a low, deep growl, promising untold painful retribution.

"Sev, they were _**quite**_ concerned," she informed him.

Fred and George were her House students after all, and she would protect them from Severus. The Potions Instructor _**had**_ agreed to test their fireworks, knowing full well that they weren't perfected. In a moment of unexpected clarity, Minerva also remembered that the only reason Severus had agreed to light the fireworks was to protect her and Filius from the twins' mayhem.

Damn it, she _**owed**_ Severus.

"Probably praying that they had slain the Great Greasy Git of the Dungeon," retorted Severus.

"You were out of it for a bit, so we brought you here. While we were dragging your sorry arse through one of Filius' secret tunnels, you accidentally pulled that hair pin out of my hair," she smoothly lied. "You stumbled because it was dark, and you instinctively grabbed me for support. You promised to hold it for me until we got you here, but you were dead on your feet when we arrived. I thought it best not to wake you for a mere hairpin."

Severus gave her a very long stare, as though he was weighing to believe her or not, so it was time to distract him.

"I spoke to India last night, Severus."

That was probably the most distracting topic of conversation she could bring to mind. Well, besides dropping her robes and offering to shag the boy then and there.

"_**INDIA?"**_ Severus growled.

"Yes, they've agreed to reconsider their decision not to attend. Well, actually Kritika said that the matter would be voted on by the Cadre, so that's significantly better than a 'Hell, no! We won't show!'." She paused, and then pounced. "Oh, before you even think to volunteer to miss the party, you're still attending this farce of Albus' even if I have to drag you to the Quidditch Pitch. Last night proved that I can physically drag you throughout the castle."

Severus looked doubtful, and Minerva bit back her sigh.

"Well, with a little help from Rolanda, I can drag you. But it's almost breakfast, Severus. I need to be leaving before your little Slytherins start wandering the halls. It would do your reputation _**no**_ good to have me seen leaving your suite at this time in the morning," she announced in ringing tones.

Minerva turned to leave when Severus quietly spoke.

"It actually might do my reputation a world of good if you were seen leaving my quarters," he softly whispered.

There was no way that she was supposed to hear that comment, but Severus was obviously still not one hundred percent from the previous night.

Merlin's Beard, the boy still had it so bad for her. Why hadn't she noticed his infatuation before now?

_**Because you thought he was a nasty git, that's why**_. Her inner voice snarkily reminded her before pricking her with a sharp pin. _**You should be nicer to him!**_

_**Why? He might get the wrong idea!**_

_**And when was the last time Minerva, that you let your hair down and had a good, proper shagging? The kind where you need **__**hours**__** to brush all the knots out of your hair?**_

_**Remus Lupin… it was…a little over a year ago.**_

_**More than a year ago! It was the morning he resigned because of that werewolf incident. You grabbed him in the staffroom, kicked the poor boggart family out of the wardrobe and shagged him in the wardrobe. TWICE.**_

_**Three times, actually. If you're going to browbeat me over my affairs, it's quite helpful if you get the basic stats right.**_

Her conscience made a rather rude noise.

_**You should think about shagging Severus. You could do a lot worst than a boy who worships the ground you walk on. Barty Crouch, Jr, ring any bells?**_

_**I thought he was Moody, damn it! Besides, Barty and I didn't do a damn thing. THANK MERLIN!**_

_**No. If he had leered Moody's all seeing eye ball at you, you would have jumped the man and done him in Rolanda's broom closet.**_

_**ENOUGH!**_

_**Min, you're still a young witch. When was the last time you actually bedded a man who loved you? No, the last few affairs have been mutual grope fests...**_

_**HEY!**_

_**Fueled by sexual tension. While I'm not denying that lusty, sweaty grope fests are quite enjoyable, it's called making LOVE for a reason. Come on, Min, the boy's hung like a hippogryph, and Severus wants you. He's probably got you on a pedestal, which means you'll have to make the first move. Come on, girl. You know the boy's not a virgin, but I doubt anyone's ever touched the boy in love. You could be his first.**_

_**NOT LISTENING!**_

_**You're right. You're not listening. Not at all. Then, please explain, why do you keep salivating over the boy's...**_

Minerva promptly threw her conscience into a mental wardrobe, complete with a matching, imaginary boggart, locked the door and lost the key.

"Never fear, Minerva," Severus said in a voice she was meant to hear. "My little Slytherins usually sleep in on Saturday mornings. On Friday nights, they customarily have a party in the common room until the wee hours. I'm not supposed to know, naturally, but as long as no one is injured and the House Elves don't complain about the mess, I let it slide."

The witch executed a perfect pivot on her right foot, so that she now facing Severus. Both arms were crossed and she wore a stern look of disapproval, which was quite ruined by her amused eyes.

"Severus!" Minerva protested in fake astonishment. "Don't tell me that you allow parties in your common room! That's so… _**Hufflepuff**_!"

"Yes," Severus dryly retorted. "Horace was the one that started the tradition. He thought it a fine way of making connections with the promising students. Though, unlike the parties in Horace's era, all Slytherins are permitted to attend. Not just Slugs' little Slugettes."

"I never understood why you weren't a member of that odious club," Minerva admitted. Mentally, she winced as she realized anew that Lily Evans had been a member, which was probably why Severus had declined membership.

"I was never one of Horace's dazzling shining stars. He has the knack of looking at people, and picking those students with long, bright futures. My future is not long, nor is it particularly bright, Minerva."

Instinctively, she reached out and hugged him. It mattered not to Minerva that he was the Greasy Haired Git, Sarcastic Slytherin, Sometimes Bane of her Existence, the boy was in emotional pain. Severus recoiled immediately, but she continued to hold him until he relaxed into her embrace. Minerva deliberately held the embrace for a bit longer, and then stepped back from him.

The boy _**is **_touch starved, she sadly thought.

"I always thought Horace was a pompous ass who would run at the first sign of trouble, Severus. I'll see you at breakfast, Severus. Yes, you need something to eat."

* * *

Minerva managed to beat most of the teachers to breakfast and she was proud that she looked presentable, unlike Charity, Aurora and Pomona who had partied rather hard from the looks of them, and were still hung over. She was had just greeted Severus with a nod when Albus Dumbledore swept past them on the way to his seat. He stopped a few paces away from them, returned to stand in front of them, dramatically sniffed the air, and then leaned over to the dangerous duo. In a conspiring whisper, loud enough for all the deaf children in China to hear him, the Hogwarts Head Master whispered, "Erumpet and Ashwind eggs? You three are lucky you didn't bring the Great Hall down around your ears." 

His blue eyes twinkled merrily. Minerva, refusing to admit anything, noticeably sniffed the air and leaned toward Severus.

"No, it smells like breakfast to me. You must be smelling the porridge, Albus," Minerva promptly answered. "Severus? Do you agree?"

Severus promptly agreed, before suggesting that perhaps an elf had burnt toast.

Rather than taking them to task for lying, Albus' blues eyes began twinkling even more.

In a softer voice, Albus informed them that they were meeting him on Wednesday at seven so they could finalize the party. He then swept away from them, his robes swinging behind him.

"Sometimes, I truly hate that man," Minerva whispered.

"Most of the time so do I," Severus softly admitted.

"I suppose it was foolish to hope that he'd remain blissfully unaware of our nefarious plans," wryly admitted Minerva.

"Rather naive also," Severus softly drawled. "He's a manipulative, barmy old codger that has his bloody finger in every bloody pie."

Dolores Umbridge then flounced into the room, wearing a shocking pink cardie, pink slacks and hot pink ballet shoes. She made a beeline to Filius, who claimed complete innocence on the reason why the very foundation of Hogwarts had trembled the night before. The two of them argued for a bit, with Filius finally having enough.

"I am not too old to practice my Charms. I do not need you to baby sit me!" Filius squeaked. "Need I remind you that I _**taught**_ you? And I know how well you did in Charms, Dolores. I'd rather have Rolanda look after me. Least she made the effort to pass my class!"

That comment angered Dolores, and her face turned particularly toad-like. The High Inquisitor realized that everyone was watching her altercation with Filius, and she began to sweetly simper.

"I'm just worried about you, Filius. Considering your age and your precarious health," she said sweetly. "I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

Severus rubbed his head as though physically pained by the sight of the Lady in Pink, and Minerva sighed. It was a damn shame that Filius was sitting next to Wilhelmina this semester rather than next to Severus, but at least Wilhelmina was keeping Filius under control. If it had been her, Minerva would have cheered Filius on when he offered to duel Dolores to the death. Hell, she would have taken wagers!

"Did anyone tell her it's considered terribly gauche to wear pink after you're five?" Minerva quipped.

"She probably hexed them," was Severus' instantaneous response. "Choked them to death with a bloody pink bow."

* * *

_**Wednesday night.**_

Severus, Albus and Minerva were sitting in Albus' office, and recounting the guest list. They had counted the guest list six times, and they were in process of counting it once more. To Severus' horror, his count was once again an impossibly high number. Then Minerva and Albus both agreed on his count.

523.

_**Five hundred and twenty three witches and wizards… and only a few of them are the local mages. **_

That impossibly high count included at best, a rough estimate of the Tanaka Yukiro contingency, as Yukiro's frightened Demiguise was still remaining invisible and refusing to relinquish Yukiro's letter to anyone. But never fear; Wilhelmina was still promising to get the letter from the Demiguise before Saturday in order to get a definite count for the Nippon Magical Institute.

Severus began his by protest by speaking softly and calmly, but his composed tone didn't last for long.

"I distinctly remembered reading somewhere that '_This will be a nice, quiet, intimate affair of Filius Flitwick's closest friends and colleagues'_, Headmaster. I believe that five hundred and twenty three guests has turned this intimate affair into a Muggle three ring circus. All we need is someone to _**juggle**_ fire to make it complete."

"Well, Severus, don't give up hope for your fire juggler as we're still waiting for Indian's response. If we're lucky, perhaps they'll send Vice Headmaster Masood. He's a Fire Mage. If we ask nicely, perhaps he'll juggle fire for Filius," Albus cheerfully stated.

India _**again**_.

No matter what potion he created, Severus' India induced headache kept returning in full force and the pain in his belly could only be described as curry-induced.

"Albus, do you remember what happened to India? During the Kali Massacre, India School of Magic _**had**_ two Fire Mages. _**Had**_ being the key word. They _**immolated**_ themselves, Albus, so that students could escape. They burned down their bloody school, Albus. Do you truly believe the Board of Governors will be pleased if Masood decides to make it two magical schools for two?"

Severus didn't even bother to make the effort to keep his voice calm.

"Plus, need I _**remind **_you that Filius doesn't have the most pleasant memories regarding Fire and India?"

Good God had Albus taken leave of what little sense remained to him? Why the hell did he, Nobby No Mate, have to remind Albus that a sensitive Filius might not react well to a demonstration of Pyromaniac's Elemental magic?

"India might send along a Water Mage to keep the risk of an inferno small," Albus suggested.

"Have you been _**DRINKING**_, Albus? Adding a water mage to this mess? Are you planning on turning Filius' party into a Roman steam bath?"

He spat that, and for a wonder, Minerva McGonagall's hand reached for his. The witch gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Ignore him, Severus. He's being purposely difficult, as I highly doubt India will send one of their prized Elemental Mages here, let alone two of them. But yes, Albus, I must agree with Severus." Minerva paused, and then laughed at the hurt look on Albus' face. "Yes, I know, Albus, you never thought that I'd take Severus' side over yours, but this party is now an exercise in complete _**insanity**_. A fire juggling Fire Mage? I really don't believe that Filius would respond well to that."

"Tsk, tsk, all this negativity about what is supposed to be a wonderful event for Filius," Albus shook his head. "Tea anyone?"

They both stated their firm desire for no tea, which naturally, Albus ignored. He meandered away from his desk to prepare a spot of tea, an obvious attempt at defusing the tension in the room.

Minerva's hand was still on Severus, and there was no doubt in Severus' mind that Albus had noticed the gesture and had filed that tidbit away for further ammunition. He probably should move his hand away from hers, but Minerva was rubbing his hand with her thumb, probably believing that she was calming him.

No, the witch wasn't calming him; instead Minerva McGonagall was confusing him.

They were still verbally jousting, though lately, Severus hadn't bothered keeping score in their duels. He couldn't be bothered with such trivial details as points when he needed to completely focus on their verbal matches. As it now stood, Severus had lost one battle because he had to intently concentrate on keeping his usual dyspeptic façade intact rather than breaking out in a real smile. Minerva had been so angry with him, her face flushed, her eyes sparking and Severus had been delighted because a breathtaking Minerva had been completely focused upon him, determined to verbally skewer him.

To all appearances, Minerva's memories of his lapse in control that one night in Filius' bedroom had been completely Obliviated.

There had been no other reasonable explanation, because she was treating him like she normally had done. He was the Stupid Scum of the Earth, Greasy Git, the Bane of her Bright Existence, Verbal Fencing Opponent.

That was what he hoped.

Recently, Minerva was also rather touchy feely with him and prone to smiling at him for no discernable reason. All these years, he had truly believed that the Gryffindor Lioness' face would crack if she smiled at him, and yet, she now always greeted him with a smile when she saw him at the Staff Table.

Bloody hell, Minerva had even invited him to her quarters last night to confirm the guest count. For the first time in recorded history, the Head of Slytherin had entered Minerva McGongall's suite. It was a wonder that the castle was still standing, as Severus had felt the very foundations nervously quiver when he had stepped over her threshold. The meeting had gone quite well, without any bloodshed as they had finished the master plan for this fiasco. To his surprise, Minerva had given him a quick, chaste buzz on the cheek when he had left, thanking him for all his help.

Her thumb kept rubbing his hand, and…. a horrific thought came to the forefront of his mind.

Deliberately, he had suppressed the unease that had been gnawing at him since that Monday night. He hadn't asked her to Obliviate her memories. Rather than risk ever mentioning it again, he had preferred to wallow in his ignominious humiliation. No, instead Minerva had offered to remove the memory as a show of good faith, so that he would accept her as one of his handlers.

Bloody hell, had she _**kept**_ the memories?

It might explain why she was being so physically demonstrative to the Greasy Git. But after years of first hand experience, he couldn't detect the tell tale taint of condescension and ridicule in their interactions. If Severus didn't know that it was impossible, he'd swear that Minerva actually _**cared**_.

Wait… Severus had often noted that Minerva was warm and affectionate with her fellow instructors. It wasn't that uncommon for her to hug and kiss another instructor. Filius, for starters, but Filius and Minerva had had been lovers of long standing.

Maybe the witch was actually treating him like he was her friend rather than an assignment? Lily had often hugged him and held his hand…. when they had been friends.

Minerva detected his unease, and she gave him a slight smile before squeezing his hand again.

"We're doing this for Filius," she reminded Severus in a soft whisper. "For no other reason would I agree to this insanity."

Her warm hand felt _**nice**_, Severus admitted to himself. It was, dare he admit this, _**pleasant**_ to be touched by another human being who didn't fear him.

Uncertain of what was a normal person would do in this situation, and having no clue of what was expected of a Nobby-No Mate like himself, Severus hesitantly squeezed Minerva's hand. It seemed the right thing to do, though Minerva's expressive eyebrow arched slightly in surprise.

"Thank you," he quietly whispered. "I couldn't hope to survive this without you. Being a Death Eater doesn't provide one with a background for handling social niceties such as party invitations. The Dark Revels usually don't require a RSVP."

He bit his tongue, wondering why he had to mention the horrors known as a Dark Revel to Minerva. Stupid, stupid fool, he cursed.

"No," Minerva agreed in a soft whisper. "I don't suppose that they do."

She let go of his hand then and foolishly, he felt rather bereft.

* * *

Dumbledore prepared the tea with a great deal of mindless humming, intent on watching Severus and Minerva interact. He had pushed Minerva toward a new role in reference to Severus, and the momentum from that single thrust had cause the witch's previous relationship with the Slytherin to careen into a new and truly unexpected direction. 

He knew his Deputy Head Mistress reasonably well, though this escapade was proving that he did not know her nowhere as well as he once thought he had. Leading the teachers in a rebellion? Yes, that _**was **_Minerva. But Filius _**and **_Minerva? He had never even caught an inkling of that torrid relationship.

But her instinctive taking of Severus' hand, the gentle stroking of her thumb against his skin to calm Severus and the way Minerva was handling the boy was never-the-less giving him a great deal of concern.

Albus knew those signs rather well. At the time he had experienced them firsthand, he had failed to notice as his mind had been completely focused on the bedazzling witch. But having the benefit of living through the experience once, Albus knew that Minerva was subconsciously debating if she would take the boy to her bed or not, and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was anxious.

For the life of him, he couldn't figure out if his apprehension was due to the possible affects of their new relationship on Severus and his role as spy for the Order, if Albus was merely jealous of the lad's good fortune or a mixture of both.

Regardless of the reason, Albus was deeply concerned.

He made a loud noise, causing the two Instructors to break apart and look guilty, and he gave them a bemused smile. Sometimes, it was good to have a reputation for being whimsical as no one knew what he'd do in a fit of boredom.

He pushed teacups into their unresisting hands, and he then sat down.

"Now? Did you decide if we are having an ice sculpture?" Albus questioned.

Severus looked ready to have an attack of apoplexy, and Minerva's eyebrows were arched so high to be indistinguishable from her hairline.

"Perhaps one in the shape of a charm?" He suggested.

While they were trying to answer that question, Albus leaned forward.

"Tell me, have you decided how you are getting Filius to the party?"

* * *

It was Friday morning, the very last moment for the assorted witches and wizards to make their reservations for Filius' party. The bombardment of birds had slowed to a slight trickle, and after nine this morning, the guest list would be finalized and sealed. Then the damnable party was tomorrow. 

Thank Merlin.

He wasn't terribly surprised to have five or so owls anxiously waiting at the table as there was always someone who had to do everything at the last minute. Minerva arrived a few minutes before him, and she was busy with the mail. He assisted her with the mail, and soon the owls were on their way back from whence they came.

"That was the last," Minerva whispered. She sounded relieved.

"Thank Merlin," he agreed.

Their food appeared, and the two of them began to eat, enjoying the fact that for the first time in what seemed like years, they didn't have to watch for feathers in their food or raccoons on a sugar induced rampage. Nor did they have to worry about sitting on an invisible demiguise who was still steadfastly refusing to deliver its letter in spite of increasingly exotic bribes.

To celebrate the end of chaos, he had put a little bit of marmalade on his toast and was about to savor the taste when the Great Hall erupted in noise. Severus muttered something obscene which unfortunately Minerva heard, but to his surprise, she quite agreed with him, as they both knew that the noise meant trouble. Fortunately, his finely tuned instincts for preservation kicked in, and he pulled back from the table, clutching his cuppa and his toast. Three large birds were flying in the Great Hall and he couldn't hear their cries above the deafening crowds. Two were eagles... one... one was a _**phoenix**_... and they were heading towards Minerva and him.

Minerva jumped back just in time, as the three birds hit the table edge hard, causing the china to rattle and various dishes to spill into Dolores Umbridge's lap. Umbridge shrieked her outrage over the birds' behavior and no one cared. A few House Elves attempted to clean up the mess, but still Dolores shrieked.

The Eagles appeared to be an honor guard for the Phoenix, as they glared at everyone and anyone that so much as looked in their direction. The Phoenix messenger had seen its better day as it was without a shadow of a doubt the most disreputable Phoenix he had ever seen, as it had graying feathers and a nasty scar where its left eye should be. Clutched in its beak was a green envelope emblazoned with an all too familiar sigil.

The India School.

_**Naturally**_.

The India School seemed bound and determined to ensure that their every interaction was _**memorable**_ and_** ulcer inducing.  
**_  
He bit back a surprised curse, and the Phoenix's one, lone eye gave him an all too human glare of disapproval.

"I am Minerva Marsaili McGonagall. Namasté," Minerva stated softly. She bowed to the Phoenix.

He quickly realized what Minerva had done, and was in the process of duplicating it, when she gave him a not so gentle kick in the ankle.

"Namasté. I am Severus Tobias Snape, and I welcome you to Hogwarts' School of Wizardry and Witchcraft," Severus responded smoothly, proving that he could be just as proper as Minerva, and in fact, even more so, when the situation demanded it. "You are welcome here, food and water will be provided for you and your..." He paused, trying to figure out what to call the two eagles. Guards? Flight Attendants? "Companions."

The Phoenix regally nodded his head, accepting Severus' tribute as his due, and then the two Eagles also followed suit. Minerva held out her hand, and the Phoenix dropped the green envelope in her hand. His mission accomplished, the Phoenix let loose a piercing war cry that echoed in the hall, rattled the dishes and caused Severus' head to ache.

A _**Phoenix**_.

They had to send a bloody Phoenix that looked like it was three weeks past its expiration date. It was a bloody marvel that the bird didn't decide to have its Burning Day right then and there in the midst of breakie in the Great Hall. No, no, it would decide to burn the very moment Filius arrived for breakfast.

"Amazing," Dumbledore's voice carried in the unexpectedly quiet Hall. "Do my eyes deceive me?"

He walked over to the birds, and stared at them. The two eagles, sensing an admirer, primped themselves, fluffing their wings, while the one eyed Phoenix matched Albus' stare.

"You've come a long way," Albus whispered. He held out his fingers as though to stroke the Phoenix but stopped as though seeking approval and the Phoenix gently nuzzled Albus' fingers with his sharp beak. "Severus? Minerva? Would you mind if I asked Wilhelmina to look at this particular Phoenix? He's quite a ways from home and a long time ago, his left wing was badly injured. She'll have to ensure that he hasn't strained it before he sets off for home."

The Phoenix shrieked his approval and the two eagles also screamed. For good measure, Dolores also screamed, but everyone was focusing on the birds as they were far more interesting than an old lady in pink. Meanwhile Grubby-Plank had also joined the merry party and was cooingly examining one of the Eagles who was basking in the attention.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day that an Indian Phoenix and two Andaman Serpent-eagles would arrive in the Great Hall," Albus remarked. "Come along now."

He held out his arm, and the Phoenix blinked in confusion.

"You and your fine Eagle friends can rest for a bit in my chambers. If Filius sees you, it will _**utterly**_ ruin the surprise. You can visit with him tomorrow."

The Phoenix blinked once, nodded his head as though agreeing, and then carefully latched onto Albus' fist with its razor sharp talons. Since there was a captive audience, naturally, the Phoenix proceeded to extend its wings to its full wing span and let loose with another piercing, metal bending war cry.

Albus chuckled, his bright blue eyes twinkling.

"What!" Minerva snapped.

"You are not cognizant of the great honor India has bestowed upon you two," Albus explained. "You must have really impressed them when you told them off, Minerva."

Minerva began to sputter, claiming that she had done no such thing, and Albus continued to talk over her protests. "And now, these fine feathered emissaries and I need to be long gone before Filius arrives. If Filius hears about these birds, he'll be sure to ask. You are to inform him that you don't know what exactly happened to them after they delivered the message. It will be in fact true, but you are to suggest that they returned to India post haste."

For a wonder, the Phoenix and the Eagles both hissed their strong disapproval of the lie to Albus.

"I know, I know, Filius will be quite upset that you three didn't stop to see him. Tomorrow, you _**must**_ be patient." Albus explained to the birds. "You don't want to ruin the surprise. He'll know something is afoot, if he sees you three."

Albus then walked over to the Floo and returned to his quarters, his avian friends accompanying him.

"I wonder what that was about," Minerva questioned.

"Albus is being Albus," Serverus retorted. "Don't think too much on it, as it's a guaranteed ticket to utter madness."

"Albus is up to something…." She slowly whispered. "I don't trust him."

"That's a very odd Phoenix," Wilhelmina quickly inserted. "He should have Burned last week, but his mage sent him here? It's amazing that he didn't molt in mid-flight. Those Eagles were also acting rather peculiar. Eagles and Phoenixes usually don't fly together… and when they do, there's usually a power struggle. No, they were most definitely sub to the Phoenix."

"Open the letter, Minerva," Severus insisted. "Let's see what India has decided."

She did so, and then she smiled. Severus leaned close to her and read the letter.

"India will attend" was neatly written in ornate calligraphy on the parchment, along with the eagle sigil and an arrival time.

Naturally, India was planning on being fashionably late, and arriving _**AFTER**_ the party started.

"No guest count?" Severus protested.

"No guest count," Minerva admitted. "What do you think? Two representatives?"

"Knowing them? The entire school will no doubt show up," Severus snapped.

She patted his hand, and shook her head.

"Calm down, Severus. You'll develop a bleeding ulcer."


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer: **_Not my characters. Not at all. If they had been my characters, I would have given them a little more chance to shine in the books.

* * *

It was first year Transfiguration. The children were rowdy as it was the Friday afternoon before a Hogsmeade weekend. Even though they wouldn't be allowed off the grounds, anarchy was still contagious. Minerva gave each and every delinquent a steely eyed gaze which immediately settled them down. There was no way in Hades that she'd let them try to Transfigure anything living, not when they were acting like a bunch of babbling, boozing buffoons. 

"Now, this is a tea cup." She deliberately pointed at a rather gaudy pink tea cup. "For today's lesson, you will Transfigure it into a plate."

Deliberately, she demonstrated the proper method of doing so and before long there was an ugly pink china plate on the table.

Thank Merlin, there wasn't a cat on it, Minerva thought. Her dislike for Umbridge was readily apparent if you knew for what to look. There was no sense in making it obvious enough for even Filch to discover. Not for the first time, and she knew that it wouldn't be the last, Minerva firmly squashed the icky memory of a drunken Septima Vector swearing that Argus Filch was shagging Umbridge.

"Now, class. You may begin," Minerva serenely instructed, attempting to keep her voice calm and free of her annoyance.

The Professor slowly walked through her classroom, ensuring that she praised the better attempts, correcting the rather stunning failures and refrained from flinching even while she instinctively casted a Containment Spell when Henrietta Smythe blew her teacup to kingdom come. When the rainfall of broken china ceased, Minerva cleaned up the mess with an economical flick and swish of her wand. Then the class steadily went downhill from there, and when the class was dismissed with firm instructions to practice, practice, _**practice**_ over the weekend, Minerva breathed a long sigh of relief.

I'm getting far too old for this, she thought. Her neck was paining her, and so she stretched. It was after a particularly satisfying crack that her eyes caught the slightest movement near the classroom ceiling. Hidden among the various architectural structures, there were three birds. Those damnable birds from India! A one eye Phoenix and two Eagles had been lurking for how long in her classroom and her sharp eyes had missed them?

From all appearances, the bird brains appeared quite amused at her teaching style. That most assuredly did not make her feel better, especially when she realized the futility of getting angry at three birds.

"Shoo!" Minerva loudly announced. "Else I'll use your fine Eagle feathers for a new pillow!"

The Phoenix gave her what could only be described as "_I'd like to see you try, Minnie_" glare while the two Eagles mockingly rolled their eyes at her.

"And you, my rather ratty looking Phoenix, I'll make a cloak out of your feathers! Though I'll be too ashamed to wear it anywhere! Don't you think it's long past the time for you to Burn? Fawkes would be horrified to be seen in public looking as _**scruffy**_ as you do."

For good measure, Minerva threateningly waved her wand at the birds. She would never actually use magic on them, but still, the birds _**were**_ smirking at her. The birds appeared disgruntled at the turn of events, the Phoenix in particular having taken great offense at the word _'scruffy'_, and with a slight poof of flame, the three birds were gone, having decided in mass that it was far safer to critique another instructor.

"That's it! Fly back to Albus! _**Chickens**_! That's what you lot are." Minerva called after them, knowing that they couldn't hear them, but still her Scottish pride insisting that she win the skirmish.

She was still glaring at the ceiling when Severus walked into her classroom. The Potions Master took one look at the fearsome expression on her expressive face, and quirked a very slight smile.

"Did I just hear Minerva McGongall shrieking about _**chickens**_?" Severus' voice radiated a deep concern about her going utterly barmy.

"No," Minerva snapped, as sometimes Severus just made her crankier merely by breathing. "It was Rolanda Hooch, Severus."

"Ah," Severus wisely decided to agree. "Rolanda must learn to keep her voice down as it carries. Squawking about chickens will cause people to doubt her sanity."

_**And yours**_, Minerva heard Severus' caustic thought.

"It was the messenger birds from India. They watched my lesson," she explained with a slight, forced laugh. "Bad enough I had to suffer through Dolores, but now even the birds are auditing me?"

"You too? They watched mine also." Severus admitted. "I'm becoming more and more convinced that there is something odd about those particular birds. Rolanda claims she caught them flying around the Quidditch Pitch. That's not so bad, but she swears that they were _**measuring**_ the field and watching the set up for tomorrow. Wilhelmina gave that rather seedy looking Phoenix a full body massage under Albus' direct order, and you know what she said?"

Minerva's headache returned in full force, right behind her left eye.

"Spit it out, Severus," Minerva growled. "I'm sure it's nothing good."

"According to our, Merlin be thanked, exceedingly competent Care of Magical Creatures Instructor, that Phoenix shouldn't be able to physically fly. Minerva, its left wing is missing a joint and most of its primary feathers. Our little feathered friend is most likely using a levitation spell to skulk around the castle. That's a bit advanced spell casting for most Phoenixes, don't you agree?"

"Merlin's bloody scrote, they're Animagi?" She softly questioned, though damn it, her instincts had been warning her since breakfast that the birds weren't acting like real birds.

"You're our resident expert, Minerva," Severus tartly reminded her. "I already looked the birds up in the registry. You're the only one listed for this particular century, but there have been… rumours… of other unregistered animagi. Simply _**shocking**_, I know."

The names of James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black were unvoiced by Severus, but were still heard loud and clear by Minerva.

"India was never completely under the control of Ministry of Magic when they were part of the Empire, Severus. So it's highly probable that India never bothered filling out the proper forms, especially after the Kali Uprising. The Indian Mage Council was livid that the Ministry didn't send help when the school needed it," Minerva explained even though she knew Severus was aware of India's peccadilloes.

"At least we finally have a guest count for India, plus the demiguise finally gave Wilhelmina the damn letter from Tanaka. There will be six from Nippon. So thanks to India telling the Ministry to Sod Off, we have no clue which mages those birds might actually be?" Severus questioned.

"The Phoenix is most likely the Vice Head Master…" Minerva admitted that slowly. "When I contacted the school, I had requested to speak with the Head Mistress and also the Vice Head Master, Mohammed Masood. When India responded, I only heard from the Head Mistress… and that Phoenix was sitting on the backrest of her chair. I believed that the bird was her familiar."

"Masood? Isn't he Albus' juggling _**FIRE**_ Mage?" Severus' voice rose in alarm. "That Phoenix who should have burned a month ago is actually a _**Fire**_ Mage?"

Her green eyes met his eyes of deepest obsidian, and they both spoke in unison as the same horrific thought crossed their minds.

_**"India is up to something."**_

Severus looked uneasy, and she had to admit that she was feeling a might concerned. The most insular, standoffish school, who justifiably had their reasons for being that way, had decided to make an appearance. No doubt Albus Dumbledore had already realized what was happening, and was safely barricaded in his office, laughing like the proverbial mad hatter over the situation he had created, and one with which Minerva and Severus had to deal.

"Better increase the guest count, and batten down the hatches. India's most assuredly up to something," she whispered.

"Are you sure?" Severus questioned. "Maybe the three Animagi will just transform. They might be inspecting the Quidditch Pitch just to ensure that they have enough space to transform without causing a pileup of magi. It's less impressive when Animagi transform and immediately fall flat on their bums. As you are well aware, birds aren't as graceful as cats, Minerva."

Being the local resident Animagi expert, Minerva glared at Severus, as he no doubt was remembering quite well the only time she had transformed and tripped over a startled student. Naturally, it had happened in front of _**him**_. Snape had half dragged, half carried her to Poppy's office as she had twisted her ankle, while she had been forced to listen to his running diatribe about aged witches who liked to show off for their unappreciative, fumble fingered, brain dead students.

Merlin's polka dotted knickers, tied and twisted into knots, did the boy, who was looking insufferably pleased with himself, just mouth,_** five points?**_

Points?

The wizard was keeping _**score**_? She'd shove a point up his bloody arse…. After the party, Minerva reminded herself.

"Severus, imagine Hogwarts had disappeared from the international magical circle for decades, and had only concentrated on nurturing and teaching their countries' wizards and witches. India's school has almost twenty thousand students, Severus, a far cry from the five hundred or so they had seventy years ago. If Albus was in charge, and had decided for whatever reason to bring the school out of isolation…."

"He'd do it in such a way that it would the talk of all the magical circles for the next millennia," Severus interrupted. "Dumbledore is a _**bit**_ of a drama whore."

Severus bit his lip after using the word whore, and Minerva decided to ignore the boy's slip of the tongue.

"Severus, combine that with no doubt India's strong need to show off for Filius, I mean, every member of their Cadre lived through the India Incident. No doubt they're working on something… something **_momentous _**to impress Filius."

"Do you truly believe, Minerva, that eccentric coven in Mumbai is planning on breaking seventy odd years of traditional seclusion by producing a magical extravaganza unheard of in modern times?" Severus drawled. "They might believe that they've done enough to flaunt tradition by sending three animagi."

"The Cadre were students when Filius was there. Now they are the instructors, face to face with their former instructor who helped save their lives. Come on, Severus, can you say that now since you're an instructor, you've never attempted to impress any of your former teachers? You never felt the overwhelming need for any of us to see you as an instructor, rather than the student you once were?" Minerva asked, but quickly added a snippy, "Be truthful, Severus."

Her question hit Severus hard, and she saw the boy's façade crumble slightly.

_Merlin's bloody scrote_, she cursed, _you didn't really need to ask that, Min. The boy lives with his unshakeable conviction that he's only here as Potions Master due to Albus' good graces._

"My best endeavors in that area have been less that successful," Severus admitted softly.

Instinctively, she reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The contact seemed to startle Severus, as he paused.

And… _**point**_ for Minerva, she thought.

In a firmer tone, he continued, "Yes, I can see why you have a valid concern. They're up to something, limited only by the fact they've had less than two weeks time to prepare."

"If I was them, I'd have all their teachers working on it," Minerva decided. It didn't make her feel any better that Severus nodded his head in agreement. "How many instructors do they have now? _**Hundreds**_?"

"What do we know so far - a Fire Mage, in particular, an immolating Fire Mage, produces a great deal of magical energy during the burning process," Severus reminded her as though she had slept through Filius' lecture on Elemental Mages during her school years. "Considering that Elemental Fire Mages have been looked at with a rather jaundiced eye ever since those two burned down the school, Masood no doubt has a bit of a fiery chip on his shoulder. Most people don't bother remembering that the Fire magi were protecting the students. "

"Masood is going to prove a point with his Fire Magic; I'm assuming that he's got two other Animagi with him so he's got magical support. Meanwhile, India's coming out of seclusion… no doubt determined to do something… larger-than-life... so everyone will know India's back on the magical scene… plus… the various Head Masters of the school have a… _**burning**_… desire to impress Filius."

Minerva winced at his pun, but conceded him the point.

The witch and wizard ceased talking for a few minutes, their over active imaginations each wondering what that unholy combination might mean.

Fire.

Lots of fire.

Big, burning pyres.

_**INFERNO.**_

"I better start brewing a headache potion. I feel I will need it," Severus darkly muttered. "Would you like some?"

"Make it a double," she snapped. "As long as I can drink liquor with it as I've turned into such a boozer since Dolores arrived."

"I'll modify it," Severus helpfully offered.

"Filius has been instructing for over a hundred years, do you have any idea what it might take to impress him?" Minerva moaned.

"Well, the fact that you two are having a civilized conversation that's free of snark and sarcasm, no threats over points being awarded or deducted and no obvious blood spilled, I think that qualifies me as highly impressed!"

Filius cheerily called in from the hallway, and Severus fluently muttered assorted muggle curse words that she was surprised that he knew and utilized. Attempting to remain calm, Minerva noticed that Severus appeared completely carefree.

Damnable spy, she cursed. He looks cool and I'm sweating buckets. Filius, naturally, just walked into her classroom, and pulled up a chair to her desk. To Min's surprise, Severus easily picked up Filius and placed him in the chair, Severus deliberately acting like it was nothing and Filius not commenting at all on the assistance.

_How many times have I seen Filius clamber into a chair that's too tall for him? I stopped asking him if he wanted help decades ago, as he refused it.__Severus doesn't bother to ask, as he doesn't want to embarrass Filius, he just flat out does it_. _And Filius doesn't want to shame Severus by thanking him, as though the considerate gesture is out of the ordinary for Severus, so Fi doesn't mention it. Albus, you __**did**__ know what you were doing when you put these two men together!  
_  
"Well, I'm just curious, Filius. How much did you overhear?" Severus coolly questioned after Filius was properly stationed. "You must have missed our discussion on house points. Minerva was once again, being hypercritical of my poor little Slytherins and claiming that her little Gryffindor lions were being sweet, little angels."

Minerva growled, as it was expected that she'd dispute Severus' withering comments about her House members.

"Not much, I just got here when you were discussing headache potions and your strange need to impress me. You don't have to impress me, I'm quite delighted with both of you," Filius admitted easily. "I'm glad I caught you two as I need to discuss something with you. I was hoping that since you had a free period that you'd be here. I had planned on hassling you two about this tomorrow at our meeting, but something has come up."

"Why? What are you doing tomorrow?" Severus calmly questioned.

Minerva felt on edge as Filius hmm'd and haww'd.

"It is your entire fault, Severus," Filius finally squeaked. "I have to help Rolanda with her damn Quidditch safety charms. She roped me into it because I wouldn't let her help the other night. She claims that since I don't trust her enough to help protect the Great Hall, then I need to redo all the Safety Charms for the Quidditch Pitch. Apparently, we're doing it tomorrow at ten in the morning."

Oh yes, Rolanda had offered to get Filius to the Quidditch Pitch. Her method of doing so was rather… inventive, Min had to admit. Perhaps Ro hadn't completely blown out her brains from all her high speed flying stunts from her professional Quidditch days.

"My fault? How?" Severus innocently protested. "Though, Filius, you must admit that it might be safer for the Gryffindor team if the charms were redone. They do have a tendency of not _**bouncing**_ very well."

Minerva refused to acknowledge the comment, though she could have sworn that she heard Severus mentally gloating about points.

"I _**HATE**_ flying tandem, especially with that speed-addicted witch," Filius then cursed. "It's your fault, because if you had only closed the door faster, she would never have snuck into the room."

"He's got you dead to rights, Severus," Minerva helpfully inserted.

Minerva knew that she was being extremely immature, but when Severus glowered at her, she deliberately mouthed, _**two points! **_ The boy's jaw dropped, and Minerva couldn't help but smile.

_**Broadly.  
**_  
"It will take awhile. Anyway, here's the contract for the Weasleys. I wrote it up, but wanted you two to be familiar with it," Filius began to explain the contract. "We, the instructors…"

* * *

The pre-party tension was most assuredly getting to Severus. 

He hadn't slept particularly well since the dream with Lily, Tobias, Minerva and that damnable Garuda. Severus wasn't a Master of Oneiromancy, but since Sybill certainly wasn't one either, he felt no shame about his lack. After pondering his dreams for the last week or so, he had finally decided that Garuda was nothing more than a symbolic representation of his deep concerns about cocking up this entire party. After all, the impossible to predict Garuda was most likely the dream manifestation of the Indian School of Magic. Meanwhile, Filius was the Ravenclaw House Head which was symbolized by an Eagle. If Ravenclaw's symbol was an elephant, no doubt the elephant headed Ganesh would have shown up in his dreams instead.

His dreams finally neatly catalogued and filed away, Severus was finally able to focus on other details regarding this party.

There were roughly two hundred foreign mages in London, all having port-keyed from around the world to that central location. From all top secret reports also known as the mouth of Arthur Weasley, the Ministry of Magic was having a full blown melt down processing the various mages.

Tomorrow, Albus would lift the Hogwarts' anti-Disapparition jinx from just the Quidditch Pitch. The stronger mages had agreed to Disapparite directly to the Quidditch Pitch, at their previously arranged times, while the various other mages were port keying their way there from London.

So much could go wrong, and Severus knew that it would be his complete fault.

Obsessively, he reread the various notes he had taken on who would arrive and when, what food, drink and other niceties were being prepared by the House Elves, what was being done to turn the Quidditch Pitch into the center of festivities.

There was something he had forgotten.

Something… _**important**_.

It came to him hours later, when he was compulsively walking in his chambers, unable to sleep.

Filius would think he was working on the Quidditch's Pitch's safety charms when he arrived at the party.

Damn it, _**the Quidditch Pitch's SAFETY**_!

From first hand experience, due to an incident that he had never successfully been able to solve though he placed the blame on the late Quirenus Quirrell, the Slytherin knew that the wooden stands were extremely flammable. His robe had "spontaneously" caught on fire, and he, being so concerned about saving that worthless Potter's life, had nearly turned into _Snape Flambe_ before someone had noticed.

And the fire had nearly taken the stands with him.  
_**  
Masood!**_

He'd burn down the Quidditch Pitch!

With that thought on his mind, he grabbed his wand, threw on his robes and left his chambers at a rather fast pace.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was in the Quidditch Pitch; well it would be more correct to say that she was hovering over the Quidditch pitch, balanced carefully on her broom, deliberately placing anti- conflagration charms over the stadium. She was smartly dressed in Muggle clothing, as jeans were so much more broom-friendly than her instructor's clothing. 

Minerva wasn't Filius; able to single handedly cast a ward big enough to contain the entire Quidditch arena. At best, she could only cast a large enough charm to cover a small section of the arena, and then fly to the next section where it would be repeated.

The half moon was providing at best, a smidgeon of light, and she cursed herself for not having thought of the potential for a major catastrophe during the daylight hours.

Energetically cursing Dumbledore for his brilliant idea of inviting India and their highly combustible Vice Head Master, Minerva felt slightly better, even though she knew that she'd be up all night covering the field, unless she had assistance.

To her surprise, she saw someone entering the Quidditch Field.

"_Lumos_!"

A small, bright light appeared at the tip of Severus Snape's wand, casting a ghostly light around the arena. The boy looked particularly specter-like, as his sallow face contrasted greatly with his dark robes.

It was cruel of her, but she couldn't resist flying toward the Slytherin at break-neck speed, and braking her broom mere inches from him. To her intense disappointment, Severus did not flinch, even when one of her feet accidentally tapped his arm.

He did brush the dirt off his sleeve though, while giving her a disgusted glare.

"Minerva," he calmly greeted her, as though Severus had complete, unshakable faith that that she wouldn't plow him into the ground. "I see we both have the same concerns about a certain fiery Mage."

"It's a fine night for flying, Severus. It's an even better night for casting anti-conflagration spells. Get on the broom, Severus."

He arched his eyebrow in mock surprise at her brisk tone, and retorted, "Minerva, I'm not the type to go bareback broom riding with a woman I barely know. Not on the first date, at least. Think of your reputation, Minerva!"

To hell with Severus' obsession with scoring points in their verbal disagreements, to blazes with politeness, Minerva leaned over to Severus, and placed her wand directly under his chin.

"Shut up and get your arse on my broom, boy," she ordered. "I've spent the last hour casting and I've only gotten 1/8 of the arena covered."

* * *

It took a few minutes for the two of them to learn to work as a team. Severus had longer legs than she did, and they kept getting their legs tangled. She nearly dumped him off the broom a few times when they slowly flew around the arena. 

At last, Minerva parked her broom, hovering roughly ten feet off the ground. Severus was sitting stiffly behind her and she sighed.

"Severus, you can fly so much better than this," she snapped. "I've _**seen**_ you. Why have you reverted to a first year student who has never seen a broom before?"

"I fly differently than you do, Minerva. It's a male, female issue. As a female, you have this insane desire for speed, while I fly a little more conservatively," Severus snarked. "I have this strange desire to live."

"This isn't going to work. It's going to take the two of us even longer to cover the stadium if I can't get any decent speed up. Severus, you're going to have to bite the bullet. Move closer to me," she ordered.

That caused Severus to shift nervously away from her, and nearly throw both of them off the broom.

_**The boy has a crush on you, Min, and is fearful of you finding out. That's why he won't sit closer to you. **_

Damn the masculine pride and Severus' unease over his body's possibly all too gallant response to being nestled against her rear, Minerva cursed. Well, she should be kinder to the lad, as females didn't have that embarrassment of sporting that rather visible response. Merlin's Beard, she hadn't mentioned to _**anyone**_ that the boy had modeled quite the trouser tent before he had realized he was in bed with her.

Carefully, she brought the broom down closer to the ground so that Severus would be able to stand with his feet on Terra Firma. Deliberately, Minerva inched her way up the broom handle so to balance the two of them.

"Stand up, Severus. You will now put your left hand around my waist, Severus. Please! Severus, I know this is awkward, but I don't bite," she pleaded.

His left arm was hesitantly wrapped around her waist.

"Tighter, Sev," Minerva instructed in her best Transfiguration Professor's voice. "Now take your feet off the ground."

That done, the witch proceeded to cast a stick'em spell on Severus's rump. It was a spell normally used for younger broom passengers riding tandem. He wouldn't fall off the broom, nor would he be able to move away from the spot from which he was sitting. Then Minerva wiggled herself back into the proper position for two person broom riding.

Yes, she was just a hair from sitting in Severus' lap. Minerva could hear the soft sounds of Severus' breathing in her right ear, and feel the warmth of his body against hers. If something developed, Minerva would quite... _firmly _... ignore it.

"And now, ready for takeoff?" She asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Minerva McGonagall pushed off the ground. It was a wonderful night for flying.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall had a death wish, and she was intent on bringing him down with her. 

That was the only excuse for what happened next. The witch began to speed around the Quidditch Pitch, leaning this way and that. Pride demanded that he not fall off the broom, so he gave up all pretenses and just wrapped both arms around her middle.

Severus learned to lean to the left or the right, based on her instructions, learning the utter basics for flying tandem with a speed addicted witch. Other times, she would accelerate and pull the broom into an incline, so her body would be forced closer to his due to the gravitational forces.

It was probably the most erotic experience of his life, Severus had to admit, and he had casted not one, but three 'Down Boy' Spells to ensure that things remained completely respectable between the two of them. Now he finally understood why there was always a sizeable line outside Anastasia's Athletic Angels brothel for their broom sex special. Mr. Silence hadn't been that kinky as he was a bit of a priss, as he firmly believed sex should include at least one foot on Terra Firma.

But no doubt Anastasia's nimble girls would be unable to match the experience of flying in the near darkness, his body so close to Minerva that they were moving as one unit, his arms tightly wrapped around Minerva McGonagall's slim waist, carefully ensuring that he didn't move his hands either high or low from where they were stationed even while he inhaled that subtle fragrance that was completely and utterly _**her**_.

To his delight, part of Minerva's hair came loose, flying behind her like a banner.

This was _**heaven**_, complete and unadulterated heaven.

It was only with the slightest bit of regret that Severus unwrapped his right arm from around Minerva's waist to begin casting the intricate anti- conflagration charms.

"We should circle the arena at least twice to ensure that we get every spot," he informed Minerva. Professional pride, and nothing else, demanded that he ensure complete coverage of the arena.

"Yes," she yelled back. "Plus we'll need to do the outside of the arena, besides the underbelly. Hold on!"

The witch picked up speed, her body leaning against his due to the inertia, and Severus heroically ignored her long, lean neck that was crying out to be nuzzled, licked and kissed.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was staring out his office window that overlooked the Quidditch pitch. He shook his head in disbelief at the scene he was watching and he laughed softly. 

"It appears Masood, that knowledge of your true identity has caused some concern among my senior staff members."

The graying Phoenix was resting on one of Fawke's perches, and he blinked his one eye in response. His two Eagle companions were sleeping, nestled together on another perch, with the larger Eagle's wing placed protectively over the smaller Eagle.

Another gray feather fell from the Phoenix, landing among the half dozen feathers littering the floor, and Albus gently stroked the tired wizard's head. The Phoenix was almost scalding hot, and his lone eye was bright with fever.

"Let me get you some cold water. Just drink a little bit, else you'll get sick."

Albus cupped his hands and brought the cold water to the Phoenix's beak. The bird drank slowly, and then chirped its thanks.

"Masood, they should never have sent you. I would have never agreed to this if I had known how close you are to the Burn."

That comment earned an angry, protesting shriek from Mohammed Masood. His displeasure woke up Bharadwaj Chandrashekhar Singh and his wife Jaya Menaka Kaur and the two eagles sleepily chirped their confusion. The Phoenix apologetically whistled, and the two Eagles drifted back to sleep.

"Shhh… I trust you, Masood. I know you to be a man of integrity and honor. Yes, I recognize that I can not begin to comprehend the debt your school owes Filius, but he will not be happy if he realizes that you are in such distress," Albus whispered.

The Indian Mage chirruped softly, and Albus nodded his head. Again, he offered the Phoenix more water, and the bird drank. The Phoenix rubbed his head against Albus' hand, and Albus accepted the silent apology.

"Yes, I know you're feeling a bit short-tempered, as you do not feel particularly chipper. Tomorrow is almost here, and you then can Burn bright for your beloved India's most esteemed Garuda. Masood, you need to sleep if you can."

The Phoenix placed his head under his right wing, and Albus recognized that the ever so well-mannered Masood was wishing to end their conversation. Therefore, Albus dimmed the lights in his office, and he went back to staring at the two figures flying in the Quidditch Pitch.

* * *

**A/N** - Yes, several reviewers were quite correct. The birds were animagi. :) As always thanks for reviewing and commenting. 


	15. Chapter 15

**_Disclaimer:_** Don't owe the characters. I just played with them a bit, and they swear that they had fun. Well, maybe not Severus, but he'll have fun sooner rather than later. I promise!

Much thanks & wet symbiote kisses to Linds and Lucretia for their suggestions.

* * *

Merlin's bloody beard, it was damn near impossible for Minerva to concentrate on flying her broom. 

It was hard enough to ride tandem on a broom, but to have her passenger possessively wrap one surprisingly well muscled arm round her middle while he casted spells with his free arm was rather difficult. They were flying through the underbelly of the stadium and there were numerous dips and turns due to the various support beams that were likely to throw off one's concentration, and so Severus had decided to harness himself to her by placing his arm around her waist.

Riding tandem was generally accepted to be one of the most challenging aspects of flying, primarily due to the level of synchronicity required between pilot and passenger. You needed to be in synch with your passenger, to ensure that you wouldn't throw him from your broom during an inopportune moment. At the moment however, the sensation of Severus' long legs touching hers was making it bloody hard for Minerva to concentrate on avoiding the various obstacles, never mind anything else. She had never thought of what exactly Severus was hiding beneath his billowing robes, but now that Severus' body was so close to hers while the broom dipped, dove and rose, it just made her keenly aware of how... _**good**_... his body felt against hers. Severus' body was radiating heat, and the cool October wind was brisk against her skin.

Merlin's tattered knickers, it had been far too long since she had a good tumble.

Flying, especially night flying, always did get her rather aroused...

Savagely, she crushed that particular thought. There was no way a deeply infatuated Severus would ever want their coupling to be anything less than _**making**_ _**love**_, and Minerva preferred her sexual affairs uncomplicated by the deeper human emotions. It wasn't that Minerva McGonagall was a trollop; it's just that having loved deeply and lost during her formative years as a Hogwarts' student, the witch was reluctant to experience that pain once again. Her beloved Bryce had been one of the first to die at the hands of He Who Must Not Be Named, and Minerva still mourned the lost of the bonnie, bright eyed boy, so eager to learn and to explore the world of Magic. The sheer savagery of Bryce's death had horrified her, as though He Who Must Not Be Named had held some deep, personal grudge against Bryce.

By promising her lover nothing more than a night together, her partner was never disappointed if the relationship failed to develop. Besides, the men she fancied, the deeply damaged men as Filius had so succinctly described them, were too scarred to accept more than a tumble or three. They'd come together; have their pleasure, and then part, returning back to their solitary existences.

Maybe tomorrow, she could flirt with Ebenezar and see if she could rekindle that long dormant spark.

Hell, maybeYuri, the crazed Bear Mage of Russia, was a good possibility for a shag. He was one hell of a dancer and had a rather wicked sense of humor. But Merlin, Yuri wasn't so far gone that he'd Transform during sex? That particular prospect was both erotic and terrifying, Minerva had to admit.

She shot out from the underneath the stadium after their third pass through, grateful to be free from the claustrophobic interior. Perhaps she was too pleased about escaping the belly of the beast as Severus was unprepared for the broom's rapid incline. The Slytherin grabbed her tightly with his wand hand, fearful of falling off her broom. Accidentally, he jabbed her HARD in her chin with his wand and his one hand… yes… was in distinctively no man's territory.

"Bloody hell!" Severus screamed. "Are you trying to kill us, you crazy witch! You need to warn me!"

"Get your wand out of my FACE!" She hotly retorted. "And get your hand…."

Severus, realizing where his hand was, reacted instinctively. Normally, Minerva was secretly impressed on how Severus was able to coolly bluff his way through an unexpected event without ever losing his composure. The boy never rattled easily, always remaining in control. But Severus had never had to deal with Minerva McGonagall while his left hand was between her legs as he had instinctively grabbed the broomstick to prevent himself from falling off. The legendary Severus Snape composure shattered and shattered _**badly**_. He threw both of his hands up in the air and jerked away from her. The swift change in the balance of the broom caused the broom to spin, and thankfully Severus knew enough NOT to start waving his wand. Re-gaining control of a spinning broom was a might tricky thing at the best of times and it required a very delicate touch.

Severus refrained from saying anything, his mind apparently focused on the spinning broom, spiraling at breakneck speed toward the ground.

* * *

Everything was going splendidly until it went completely and utterly to hell, Severus admitted. It had taken several hours, but the two of them had flown and casted the protections spell on every square centimeter of the Quidditch Pitch. He had kept his mind focused on his spellcasting, refusing to let himself savor the erotic sensation of having Minerva McGonagall in his arms… well… left arm and it had worked really rather surprisingly well. 

The witch was a daredevil and had a thirst for speed. He hadn't expected her to fly her broom quite so fast, because pillon riding at high speeds was an acquired art. But as soon as their bodies had begun to move together as one, anticipating the curves, the dives and the rises, she had picked up the speed. It was instinctive flying, a blurring between mind, soul, body and broom. Severus loved to fly, though he lacked the natural talents of Potter for whom flying came as easily as everything else had to come to the Golden Boy. As a student, he had spent countless hours practicing in solitude, lost in his imagination that he had caught the Golden Snitch allowing his House to win the Quidditch Cup competition. But this ride was far better than those lonely daydreams, as the cool night air against his skin was _**real**_.

They were on their third flythrough of the inners of the stadium. These dank, dark and twisty areas were rarely visited except for the occasional private shag between upper classmates, yet Minerva showed no fear. The Gryffindor Lioness was still speeding through the irregular tunnel, their bodies shifting together… her hair flying uncontrolled as her bun had long since given up in defeat… Perhaps the fact that Minerva's hair was streaming behind her was the most surreal part of the entire dreamlike experience. The Slytherin had to rest his head on her right shoulder to keep her hair out of his face, and Minerva was laughing, deliriously giddy because of the speed.

While he feared the darkness, Minerva was unafraid and her bravery made him feel… protected.

She was the bright flame of a lone candle illuminating the darkness of his life.

The witch was softness and warmth, a balance to his icy brittleness. Severus trusted her enough to fly with his eyes closed, intent on noticing the subtle nuances of Minerva flying free. Her animagus form shouldn't be a mere tabby, she was a _**lioness**_…  
_**  
Oh Merlin, what would it be to bed the Gryffindor Lioness and make her purr?**_

That depraved thought startled him, and he sternly chastised himself for his vile, wicked thoughts.

His mind distracted, he didn't notice that Minerva's weight had shifted slightly, signifying that they were on an incline with a burst of speed imminent. When the broom jumped, Severus shifted the wrong way; felt the broom further shift beneath him due to the ill managed weight distribution, and Severus made the mistake of opening his eyes. The sky was twirling around him, and instinctively, he panicked as they were fifty or so meters off the ground. Stupidly, he clutched at Minerva, grabbed for the broom and nonsensically screamed about her desire to murder him.

To his horror, his left hand was in a very bad location, and he had jabbed Minerva with his wand. Minerva was justifiably less than chuffed, and in his embarrassment, he shifted his weight once more, causing the broom to further spiral out of control. The broom was spinning, the sky, the ground, the stadium all blurry as the two of them continued to spin at an ungodly rate.

Waving his wand about would do no good and in fact, might escalate the situation; it would take a skilled broom rider to regain control of the broom even without him doing anything else to cause the situation to accelerate further. So Severus closed his eyes and nonverbally began casting a cushioning spell even as he clutched Minerva's waist with his right arm. With his left hand, Severus instinctively grabbed Minerva's long hair in a valiant attempt to keep it from her eyes. She needed to see what was up, what was down, and her long hair might get in her eyes.

All these years as a double agent, and he always believed that he'd die alone, at the hands of a vengeful Dark Lord. It was bitterly ironic that he'd die with his one arm wrapped around Minerva McGonagall's waist and his other hand holding onto to her hair.

Unknown to both of them, Albus Dumbledore was watching the scene from the safety of his open office window with something close to wry amusement. His wand was ready to swish and flick as necessary for the safety of his faculty members, but he trusted Minerva enough to feel completely confident that she'd regain control of the broom.

Before or after she killed her passenger was the real question.

He heard a questioning chirrup from his desk. The Phoenix had napped for a bit, and was once again awake.

"My dear Masood, I can assure you that this is _**not**_ a common occurrence at Hogwarts. It's exceedingly rare that I have teachers falling out of the sky due to a mishandled broom," Albus stated in a reassuring voice. "Students yes, but not instructors. I have utmost faith that they'll regain control of the broom."

The two wizards watched for a bit, until the broom regained a steady course and descended carefully to the ground. The two mages on the broom appeared more or less intact, and so Albus closed his office window.

"They seem to be safe now, so it's best perhaps, that I go to bed." Albus laughed softly, and then continued. "After all, it will be an exceedingly interesting day tomorrow. I probably should be well rested."

* * *

There were few who knew what Severus Snape really did with his free time who would ever dare to criticize his level of bravery, Sirius Black notwithstanding. However, Severus' biggest, darkest fear in his life was not being in control of a situation. This unease had been fostered and promoted by a childhood of abuse from Eileen and Tobias with a large heaping teaspoon of help from the Marauders. To close his eyes, and let Minerva handle the situation scared him far more than meeting a slobbering, lupine Remus Lupin during a full moon ever had. That two experiences had been... surreal... as who expected to get slaughtered by a werewolf? Severus had been terrified then, but he at least had his wand, so he was able to defend himself, and on the second night with mad Lupin, Severus had those damnable children to protect. This, on the other hand, required that he give control of the situation over to someone else, and it was the quite possibly the scariest moment ever in a life defined by truly horrific moments. 

It was with real relief that he felt his feet on the ground. He was barely able to stand, his legs still shaky from the experience. Minerva's body hit him hard and he instinctively grabbed her to prevent her from falling. The impact should have knocked him off the broom, but he didn't even move.

Minerva would _**never**_ fall to the ground, not while Severus Snape still drew breath.

Realizing that he still had a fistful of her hair tightly clutched in his hand, he released it quickly as though it burned.

"Severus?" Minerva softly questioned. "Are you all right?"

His wit failed him, and he was unable to come up with a suitably caustic comment. Meanwhile her broom fell to the earth, unnoticed by either. Severus was staring in bewilderment at Minerva... who was _**shaking**_.

"Of all the stupid, stupid things to do..." She walked away from him, her shoulders hunched, and her hand to her mouth. Her Scottish accent was heavy, which meant that Minerva was truly upset. "We could have _**died**_ just now. Then who the hell would oversee Filius' bloody party!"

Minerva gave a shaky laugh, the type of laugh that could stay as bitter humor or turn on the knife's edge into full hysterics.

No... not Minerva. The fiercest of warrior maidens, she'd _**never**_ be close to hysterics.

"I'm... sorry..." Severus apologized. "I'm... sorry..."

Merlin's beard, the Slytherin was so ashamed. It was his fault, because he hadn't been paying attention. No, Severus Snape had allowed himself to get distracted by... lewd... thoughts and had nearly caused a horrific crash.

His apology, naturally, angered the witch. She turned towards him and bestowed upon him a most fearsome glare.

"What are you sorry about?" Minerva snapped. "Did you just pull a stunt that a first year would have known not to do? Racing around at high speeds in that maze... in the _**DARK**_! You weren't flying the broom!"

"I was _**riding**_ it," he offered that slowly. "I didn't tell you to slow down."

"Merlin's wand, I'm such a speed freak," Minerva confessed. "I haven't been able to fly like that in YEARS."

God help him, Minerva was breathtaking, and he tried not to stare. Her face was flushed, either from excitement, embarrassment or a mixture of both, combined with her long hair, wild and uncontained.

"Albus has firmly warned me that he will suspend my broom privileges if I set a bad example for my students," Minerva regretfully admitted.

The two of them stared up as Albus' window, wondering if Albus had just witnessed the spectacle. The light in Albus' office dimmed as though answering their question.

"Thank Merlin," Minerva breathed. "If he witnessed it…"

"He didn't see..." Severus finished. "Else he'd be down here."

"Fortunately, he's too busy entertaining foreign animagi in his office," Minerva dryly continued. "Every time I attempted to talk to him today, he avoided me. I swear he must have shamelessly used Fawkes to transport him throughout the school today."

They didn't say anything for a bit, letting their badly rattled nerves settle. Severus would be quite content to spend the entire night in the Quidditch Pitch, just as long as Minerva was there.

"Severus? Would you like a nightcap?" Minerva softly questioned. "I need something to settle my nerves."

Yes, he'd love a nightcap, but Severus knew that he had to be realistic. These past two weeks had found the Slytherin was getting entirely too comfortable with Minerva, savoring these stolen moments with her and not focusing on the ramifications of what would happen if his feelings for her ever became known once more. Like a moth lured by a candle's bright flame, he kept coming back for more and more.

_**Remember, fool! Remember how repulsed she was by your interest! She tried to save your pride by making it all a big joke. She may have forgotten, but you MUST NOT!  
**_  
"I do believe the High Inquisitor has the hallways under surveillance. There's no way I could get to your rooms without being seen," Severus stated softly.

His lie sounded false even to his ears. Some spy he was, he couldn't even come up with a decent, logical reason for not going to her quarters. Minerva would no doubt retort that he could always claim that he was in Minerva's quarters due to Filius' party.

Instead, Minerva gave him a wicked smile that he could only adequately describe as a very Gryffindorish. The grin made his blood run ice cold and yet boiling _**hot**_, at the same time.

"We don't have to use the hallways to get to my room. Come on!" Minerva called.

She snapped her fingers, and her trusty steed, her Nimbus 2001 rose a few feet from the ground and then expectantly hovered, eagerly waiting for her mistress' next command.

"Your broom? We're using your _**broom**_ to get to your room?" Severus couldn't help but snark his disbelief. "Isn't one near death experience a night enough for you, witch?"

"Come on Severus, live your life on the edge for a bit! Didn't you ever sneak in after curfew using your broom," Minerva questioned. "Oh wait, I forget. Slytherins don't need to use brooms to sneak into their dorms. I keep forgetting Salazar was afraid of heights, so he wanted his students as close to the ground as possible."

"No, he lost the coin toss," Severus protested, intent on defending the reputation of his House from such complete nonsense. Salazar Slytherin? Afraid of heights? One of the greatest wizards ever to step foot in Hogwarts was NOT afraid of heights. "He wanted the Tower, but Godric won the coin toss."

"Coin toss?" Minerva protested. "Coin toss? What an utter load of _**rubbish**_!"

"It's in the Slytherin Files," he firmly protested. "The Founders let Rowena have the one tower, as she was an Eagle animagus. She liked flying around the castle, so naturally, they gave her a perch. That left only one tower and Godric won the coin toss."

"In the Gryffindor Files, they state that the real reason was decidedly more prosaic. Salazar was afraid of heights, so he begged Godric to take the tower."

The very thought of such lies about one of the Founders being propagated by the House of Gryffindor put iron in his backbone. He turned away from Minerva and began to briskly walk towards the Castle. To his extreme annoyance, Minerva, on her broom, was soon hovering next to him, stalking him as he attempted to walk away from their looming blow out.

"So, no nightcap?" She questioned.

"I think not," he snapped.

"Very well, I'll meet you tomorrow at your suite at eight, Severus. That way we can walk over to the Pitch together," Minerva decided.

He had almost exited the Quidditch Pitch when Minerva softly called out his name. Like the fool that he was, he stopped walking.

"_**What**_? Do you now desire to tell me some nonsense that Salazar slept with a blankie like a first year Hufflepuff?"

"No," Minerva gently answered. "I wanted to thank you."

"You're welcome." It was an automatic response, the artificiality of it immediately causing Minerva's eyebrow to arch.

"Well, aren't you curious what I'm thanking you for?" she questioned, her tone drier than the Sahara.

"I'm sure your gratitude is completely heart-felt, that is enough for me. The reason matters not at all to me," he retorted, though truthfully, Severus did wonder what he had done right for once.

He began to walk again, and Minerva softly sighed. Naturally, he stopped. _**Again**_. Instead of running for the hills, his pride be damned, he _**stopped**_.

"Well, I wish to tell you why exactly I'm thanking you, Severus. Thank you for not panicking during our little free fall," Minerva stated with quiet dignity. "If you had started waving your wand during the middle of it, I'm quite sure that we wouldn't have landed safely. I appreciate the fact that you trusted me enough to let me handle the situation."

While he was still standing there, completely befuddled that she was thanking him for the accident he had nearly caused, Minerva leaned over and kissed him on his cheek.

"You don't trust easily, Severus, so I thank you for believing in me," Minerva said. She then whispered, "And this is for keeping your head screwed on tight, and grabbing my hair so it didn't blind me when I was trying to land."

She kissed him on his lips. His lips! It was a chaste, respectable kiss, but he was still in shock when a grinning Minerva McGongall zipped away on her broom, heading straight toward her room.

* * *

What a wild, utterly exhilarating night! The last time she had a night ride like that, her adrenalin had been racing through her system like a drug, she and Mad Eye had gotten a room, and shagged all night long... 

Mentally chastising herself for letting her mind illicitly wander while she was flying, she carefully spelled her window to open. The Gryffindor Head floated into her room, and then gently lowered herself to the floor. With a quick gesture, Minerva's broom was carefully put away, and then Minerva quickly found her hairbrush, as she needed to tame her wild mane.

_**Someone looks like she had a jolly good shag,**_ her reflection disapprovingly murmured. Her double was in her tartan jimjams and her hair was securely restrained.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Minerva sniped.

_**Well, sorry to rain on a tart's parade, but you got a letter while you were out shagging**_, her mirror doppelganger's voice held a great deal of relish.

"Must be for the party tomorrow," murmured Minerva, refusing to let her mirror image dampen her mood, though she wondered why her mirror image was such a priss. "I wonder who is RSVPing so late."

Night flying, with a younger wizard's arms wrapped around her waist had certainly perked up her mood so she would not let anyone ruin her good mood. Well, even _**Rolanda Hooch**_ would brighten up after a ride like that!

_**No, it looks like it was from the HEADMASTER.**_

Her good mood popped like a balloon.

_**Yes, was someone being naughty? Why, I think someone was, as I think it's a red envelope!  
**_  
"Not I! I did not misbehave," She insisted. Her hands belied her protest, as they were instinctively putting her hair back into a business like bun. It didn't really matter whether or not her hair was up or down when she read her letter from Albus... but she still did it. Oh Merlin's bloody beard, Albus didn't send her a HOWLER like she was Neville Longbottom! A Howler!

Yes, there it was, on her desk, next to the homeworks she had yet to mark. The tell tale red envelope was flopping around like a fish out of water.

"Be brave, Minerva. It's just a _**HOWLER**_," she reminded herself. "You usually get a few dozen a school year."

Yes, but this Howler was from Albus. His office window overlooked the Quidditch Pitch. He must have watched... _**EVERYTHING**_. If he was watching, that meant that the Indian Animagi had gotten quite a free show, which meant Albus would not be happy.

Being Gryffindor down to her maroon socks, Minerva bravely took the envelope and without the slightest bit of hesitation, opened it. She refused to flinch when Albus' roaring voice filled the air.

_**You pull another reckless stunt like that again; Minerva McGonagall, and I'll take your broom privileges away from you for the entire whole school year.**_

* * *

Severus met Minerva outside his quarters, promptly at eight in the morning. He hadn't slept well, as his dreams had been full of visions of falling from the sky, grabbing for Minerva and feeling her slip from his arms. Minerva, on the other hand, had utilized that strange, arcane magic that women specialized in, and she looked... pretty. Her green eyes were far more vivid than her norm, her lips seemed redder and more kissable, and her cheeks held just a touch... just a touch... of rosiness. Her long hair was neatly constrained, not in her mandatory bun, but a soft roll of some sort. The witch was also wearing a new outfit, and Severus wondered if he would be too forward if he told her that she looked... nice. 

The witch glanced at him, and Severus felt her gaze turn disapproving.

"You're wearing... _**that**_?" was all she said, but her tone implied so much more.

Immediately, he glanced at his clothes, wondering if someone had casted a transfiguration spell on his clothes that he failed to notice. No, he was wearing his usual. His black frock coat was neatly pressed, his black cravat was carefully tied and the sleeves of his white shirt were pristine.

"Is there a problem?" Severus questioned. He had deliberately requested a House Elf to press the outfit, just to ensure that he was presentable.

The witch's green eyes were full of disbelief.

"You look like you're attending a funeral, Severus," Minerva explained in the very same weary tone that she used to explain to his classmates why transfiguring hedgehogs into pen cushions was far harder than it looked. "I know it's what you normally wear, but really, this is meant to be a festive occasion; don't you have anything... that's _**not**_ black?"

"No," he slowly admitted. "I work with potions, black doesn't show stains."

Minerva bit her lip, a nervous gesture, and she shook her head as though unbelieving of his mental density.

"Nothing in your house colors?" Minerva queried in a hopeful tone. "Maybe a cravat in green or silver?"

"Yes, my students typically give me articles of clothing in Slytherin colors for the Holidays," he admitted.

"Perhaps you could wear it?" the witch asked.

"I don't think Filius and eight hundred thousand of his closest friends would be particularly delighted to see me in my dressing gown," snapped Severus. "Nor in my pyjamas."

The witch stopped dead in front of him, and placed her hand on his chest. The intimate contact surprised him and he opened his mouth to protest as Minerva appeared to attempting not to laugh. Deliberately, she placed her index finger over his mouth to silence him.

"Severus, you simply can't wear that," the witch protested. "It's a party, Severus, to _**celebrate**_ Filius; we're not mourning him and singing a dirge. Albus has a new robe; perhaps you could borrow one of his?"

"I will not wear one of his 'festive' robes. They're..." Hideous was the first word that came to his mind, followed by loud, brash, tacky, ugly and bizarre. "…And I refuse to wear any of his damnable hats!"

"You're right. You're far too solemn to carry off one of Dumbledore's robes. Since everyone believes he's a daft old codger, he can get away with wearing what he does. Can I transfigure this outfit? I promise to return it back to its original practical nature after the party?" Minerva questioned as she pulled on his coat, inspecting the color and quality of the fabric. "Nothing too much. Just a little bit of color. You look like the corpse at a funeral."

All these years, Severus had never really cared about his clothes. If they were clean and they fit properly, that was good enough for him. Black on black was plain, simple, utilitarian. To his horror, Minerva grabbed him by his arm, and pushed him into a deserted classroom.

"Now, Severus, with your coloring, you really shouldn't wear black. It makes you look like a corpse three days past its expiration date. Have you ever thought of wearing... _**pink**_?"

Minerva's eyes sparkled as no doubt he was displaying his disgust for her to see, and then she mouthed, "_**Point**_".

"That's _**not**_ worth a point," Severus vainly protested, more upset that Minerva had taken his beloved game away from him and turned it toward her own nefarious purposes than the fact that the witch wanted him to wear… _**pink**_.

"You're quite correct, Severus. I think it's worth _**two**_. Now, have you ever thought of wearing a simple brocade? Nothing too fancy, you understand, but something that will contrast against the black?"

No. No, he was not Gilderoy Lockehart. He wouldn't wear brocade, nor would he wear silk. Plain, sensible clothes for a rational man! If Minerva thought to turn him in a fop, she had a painful lesson to learn.

* * *

The two of them walked out to the festively decorated Quidditch pitch, and they were immediately stopped by Pomona Sprout. The witch was clean, and dirt-free, and she was wearing a new set of robes. Not that Severus would ever state that Sprout was a mudder, but she did work in dirt and she dressed appropriately. 

"Severus? Is that you?" Pomona questioned. She touched his jacket, and he instinctively flinched. "Is that silk? And the brocade... it's marvelous, as it's not too showy and overpowering. Plus I didn't realize that you owned a cravat in that color. You should wear this outfit more often. It shows off your eyes."

He would not pout like a first year denied a sweet.

Severus would _**not**_.

Would _**NOT**_, but when Albus Dumbledore joined the party and gave him and his Minerva-improved wardrobe an approving eye, Severus's pride had enough. Honestly, the way they were carrying on about his clothes was though he normally walked around wearing tattered rags.

"I believe there's a party to organize," Severus pointedly reminded everyone.

"No," Albus inserted. "There's no party to organize, Severus. Everything has been accomplished, and it is now time to relax. The flowers have been arranged, food and drink have been prepared and our eager to please house elves have been given their final instructions. The invited guests are destined to arrive shortly. Rolanda will ensure that Filius arrives at the proper time, and all is well."

Severus' omnipresent headache returned with a vengeance and he could not help but retort. "Why yes, Head Master, you've thought of everything, except for one key issue. Who, pray tell, is overseeing the mental asylum better known as Hogwarts as all faculty members will be attending this fiasco?"

"Ah," Albus admitted, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "You are quite observant, Severus. I have placed the Head Boy and Head Girl in charge of the school with explicit instructions on the need for secrecy. If there is an issue that requires an immediate response by a staff member, they have been instructed to contact Argus Filch."

"FILCH?" Assorted faculty members' voices rose in deeply concerned unison mixed with their belief that Albus was as mad as a hatter. "_**You put FILCH in charge of Hogwarts?**_"

* * *

Filius Flitwick was a man on a mission, and he knew that something was afoot among his fellow instructors as everyone of them had been acting odd in the last week. Well, the exception of Dolores Umbridge, as she was so far over into the Dark Side that nothing she did would ever surprise him, and Filch was still obsessively cleaning the castle like a man possessed. 

But the friends on the Instruction staff were acting bizarre.

Minerva and Severus were chatting, _**POLITELY**_, every time he saw them. They hadn't argued, they hadn't fought, no blood had been spilt and neither of them had shown up at his suite to bitch about the other one in the last two weeks! Good Lord, perhaps the two of them had decided to shag, and since Severus did not have that confused look on his face that Filius would expect him to wear after being shagged by Min, that meant that they were up to something else. It wasn't Dumbledore's Curriculum report, it wouldn't explain why the others were acting odd.

Pomona was busy, quite busy with something floral related, and the House Elves were acting as though they were on a mission. In fact, for the last two weeks, on the rare times he had dealt with a House Elf, it had always been Rudy who served him. Rudy who was amazingly tight lipped for a House Elf, not prone to the wild diarrhea of the mouth that plagued most House Elves.

But the rumors of a one eye, rather battered looking Phoenix appearing in the Great Hall had reached his ear, and the fact that Mohammed Shujaat Masood, Kritika Veerasundari Mukhopadhyay's personal messenger, had left India, visited Hogwarts and had NOT stopped by his quarters for some Masala Chai meant that something was most assuredly up. Masood was one of the few Indian Mages who would willingly leave the India subcontinent, and he always visited whenever he was in the area.

The fact that the Phoenix had been escorted by two Eagles meant that three of India's strongest mages had left the school compound, which was never, **_ever _**done.

The diminutive Charms Instructor trotted down to Rolanda Hooch's quarters and knocked on the door. Once the Quidditch Pitch issue was handled, Filius would discover what everyone was attempting to hide from him.

"Come on, Rolanda. It's Filius," he loudly announced. "I know I'm early, but let's get this idiocy over with, shall we?"


	16. Chapter 16

_**Disclaimer: **_Not my characters. Don't own them, because if I did, the Golden Trio would be replaced by the Unholy Trinity.

_**Disclaimer # 2**_: I stole "Tall, Dark and Lanky" from a story of Minniequill. I hope she doesn't mind. (Looks worried)

Thanks to Linze for her suggestions. Thanks to all those that read this. It's my first HP story.

* * *

Rolanda Hooch was in the process of deciding what to wear for the Biggest Event of this year's Hogwarts' Social Calendar when Filius arrived at her quarters. Cursing at Filius' sudden, inexplicable inability to tell time, the Flight Instructor opened the door to her quarters and let Filius enter. Being a rather prim and proper sort, Filius' face immediately colored as Hooch's muscular body, finely honed from far too many years of Quidditch, was clad in a pair of tight leggings, a strategically placed arm and not much else. Her hair was particularly wild looking and her fierce yellow hawk eyes were highly amused. 

"Filius, you're so cute when you blush." Rolanda moved closer to the Charms Instructor who was trapped between her and the closed door. "I just want to hug you and cheer you up! Let me hug you, Fi! You'll feel so much better!"

For her rather risqué comment plus her near completely "accidental" flashing of Filius, Rolanda earned a lightning quick response from Filius.

Many wizards or witches at one time or another forgot that the diminutive Filius Flitwick was an accomplished Duelist, with an impossible strike zone. Dismissing him as a mere academic and truthfully, a rather short one at that, they rarely did so a second time. At one time, Filius Flitwick had been the fastest wand in the United Kingdoms, Europe and most of Asia also. These days, his wand might be a tad bit slower, but his razor sharp mind was still lightning fast, and so Rolanda Hooch was about to learn first hand.

"Coverum Rolanda Immedioso!"

The Quidditch Instructor was immediately wrapped head to toe in an extremely oversized, exceeding fuzzy, horrifically hot pink dressing gown that had apparently escaped from Dolores Umbridge's wardrobe and had energetically sought out its next fashion victim to claim as its own.

"FILIUS! EVEN I KNOW THAT SPELL DOESN'T EXIST!" Rolanda shrieked as she unsuccessfully attempted to remove the dressing gown that was steadfastly covering her body. "YOU GET THIS OFF ME NOW!"

"Tsk, tsk, say please," Filius tersely reminded her, as he viewed good manners as a key virtue that was sadly lacking in the younger generation of witches and wizards.

"Please, Filius, this looks like what my mum used to make me wear when she was trying to turn me straight!" Rolanda sadly pleaded, even while she energetically wrestled with the hot pink octopus that was determined to clothe her in feminine respectability. _**"Please**_?"

With a quick slice of Filius' wand, Rolanda was able to unbutton the dressing gown.

For the record, the Cover Rolanda Immediately spell truly did not exist, as Filius had shammed Rolanda by casting a non-verbal spell before he uttered his pretend spell. Filius glared at a still caterwauling Hooch, and firmly warned her, "Don't tease an old dog, Ro, he just might bite."

As one would expect, the irrepressible Ro refused to show her fear.

"Fi! I never knew you were into kink!"

With a fluid gesture, Filius Flitwick warningly swished and flicked his wand at the Quidditch coach, and once again growled, a low, threatening sound. Rolanda squeaked, a high pitched sound, and she quickly backed away from the wizard, bumping into her cabinet full of Quidditch memorabilia.

"I have far more pressing matter than your Quidditch pitch this morning. If you don't get dressed, and do so quickly, Ro, I will reschedule for a time more convenient for me," Filius warned. "And you will wearing that pink monstrosity for the NEXT decade."

Cowed, a chastened Rolanda headed toward her bedroom at a near run. "I'm changing, I'm changing!"

* * *

The weather outside the Quidditch Pitch was typical for Scotland in October, dreary, cloudy and generally miserable, but inside the stands, it was warm, sunny with just a hint of an southwesterly breeze. Albus had outdone himself in ensuring that the weather was picture perfect for a pleasant gathering. Meanwhile, most of the Hogwarts students heading towards Hogsmeade were wrapped up in jackets, scarves and mittens. 

The various mages and witches had already begun to port key in from London.

Dolores, naturally, had tried to take control of the situation, but even the kindest of souls would never declare her organizational skills as anything more than limited and remarkably ill suited to maintaining control over hundreds of multi-national individuals. The Toad could barely handle a class of a dozen or so students, yet there she was, in bright pink, pretending for all that she was worth, that Dolores Jane Umbridge and the Ministry were firmly in charge of the party, and by extension, Hogwarts.

In what was no doubt the manner that Albus had always intended, the entire event was dissolving into complete anarchy as the Headmaster gleefully took a 'hands off' approach to the chaos. He could have stopped it with a single word, but instead, Albus merrily watched as the proverbial train derailed off the tracks, all the way from its engine down to its caboose.

One large tent had been the solo occupant of the Quidditch pitch when she and Severus had arrived a short time ago, but since then, a dozen or so brightly colored, smaller tents had sprouted. There were crowds of mages, all wearing festive party apparel resulting in a riotous, mishmash of colors. At last count, Minerva had overheard at least twenty different languages being used, though everyone had been politely requested to use English as the lingua franca of the party proper. This combined with the cacophony of shrieks, whistles, roars and hoots of the various familiars was enough to cause the witch to decide to take a preventative double dose of Severus' patented headache potion.

_**You better be right about alcohol not reacting badly to the headache potion, Severus, as at the rate things are going, it won't be long before I need a proper drink.**_

Yukiro's demiguise was so overjoyed to see her mage again that she was clinging to the Japanese wizard, steadfastly refusing to turn visible, so you could only see various bits and pieces of Tanaka. The now you see him, now you don't affect combined with Tanaka's dark kamishimo made Minerva rather nauseous, so she decided it was time for her to mingle elsewhere. Naturally, Albus was a blaze of color, normally, she would describe his taste in clothing as garish, eyesore, painful; though on this occasion his elaborate robes failed to stand out among the other, equally as ornate robes. Her green eyes continued to search for her fellow Hogwarts instructors, and she only managed to locate Severus easily, his black robes standing out like a tall, regal, though somewhat charred lighting struck oak tree in a large flower garden.

Naturally, Minerva would refuse to acknowledge to anyone that perhaps Severus had been correct about wearing black to this particular party.

The Slytherin was directing the new arrivals from Saudi Arabia towards a safe place to land. The mages had originally RSVP'd for ten guests, and instead, the Bedouins had arrived on three large, extremely illegal flying carpets, all of which appeared to be in far excess of the load limit of twelve people per carpet. At least they seemed to be a rather merry group of Mages, as they were busy singing, and some were dancing. Minerva deliberately ignored the hookah, as her one experience with a water pipe had been enough for her.

The Arabians' safe landing accomplished, the next set of mages arrived in a flash of smoke shortly after Minerva made her way over to Severus. The latest guests included a great deal of braying and flaying of hooves, as the South African mages were riding zebras that appeared quite displeased with their mode of transportation.

"Keep moving! Keep moving! There are more mages arriving shortly!" Severus exclaimed loudly. That command failed to move them, so Severus made a shooing motion.

The mages didn't pay him one iota of attention.

"Minerva, do you speak isiZulu?" Severus questioned. His reputation for unflappability was being destroyed spectacularly today, though perhaps it was a trifle unfair to classify this as a normal day in the life of Severus Snape as he rarely dealt with zebra riding Zulu mages who appeared to be jabbering along happily in isiZulu. "They're not moving off the platform, and the Teutonic group is due to appear in... three minutes."

"**_IsiZulu_**? Of bloody course, I don't speak isiZulu!" Minerva stridently reminded Severus of the obvious. "I speak English, Gaelic, Latin, Greek, a smidgeon of German, enough French to get directions, yes, but isiZulu is not on the Ministry of Magic's Recommended Muggle Languages to learn."

Fortunately for the South African, Teutonic and Hogwarts Mages, a tragic Apparition accident was avoided when the lead Zebra Stallion noticed one of Pomona's flower displays. When he moved off the pad to investigate the delicacy as a possible snack, the mares in his herd followed. The Mages continued their loud discussion, allowing their Zebras to clear a path in the milling crowds for them.

"Thank you!" Minerva called, politeness being her second nature. The reputation of Hogwarts maintained, though it seemed quite doubtful that the South African mages understood her, Minerva then quickly assessed the situation. Severus was pinching the bridge of his hooked noise, the strain of handling the arrivals obviously beginning to show.

"Severus, how are you holding up?" Minerva meant to keep her voice soothing and soft, but alas, she needed to yell in order to be heard above the braying of the Zebras.

"Teutonics are arriving shortly. I can't think of anything else, though a nice glass of firewhisky would be appreciated," dryly retorted Severus. "On second thought, forget the glass; just give me the bloody bottle. I'll drink straight from the bottle."

A loud, resounding crack, and there was a big, Siberian Brown Bear on the Apparition area. The bear looked around, stretched and then yawned, showing off its large, fearsome teeth. That done, the bear sat on his bum and licked his front paw that appeared to be covered in something sticky.

"Yuri! You're too early!" Minerva protested. "Move! Else the Teutonics will Apparate on you!"

The bear growled, and shrugged itself into a burly, shaggy brown haired mage. After giving Minerva a rather lengthy appraising look that made the witch's ears burn, Yuri then dismissively glanced at Severus. The expression on Severus' face was his usual dour one, but apparently the surprisingly astute Yuri saw something in Severus' black eyes that Minerva failed to notice as he quickly gave Severus a second, far longer look. The Crazed Russian Bear Mage, who in all likelihood was far saner than she was, as he'd never willingly get involved with a stunt like this, shrugged apologetically at Severus and muttered something too low for Minerva to hear. The comment was apparently solely for the benefit of Severus and the Slytherin merely arched his eyebrow in a nonverbal response before the Russian Mage lumbered off to harass another soul.

Minerva stole a glance at Severus, who appeared extraordinarily pleased with himself. When Severus noticed that she was watching, his serious mien returned.

"Germany," he pointedly reminded her.

With a loud crack of lightning, a dozen German mages arrived. The head witch, a blonde, statuesque Valkyrie of a witch, brusquely ordered her group to hurry away from the Apparition zone, and before long, the twelve mages had disappeared into the madding crowd.

"Fifteen points to the Teutonic Institute of Magic for not standing around waiting to be Apparated upon," Minerva sniped. "Who are we waiting for?"

"Was to be Yuri, next lot scheduled to Apparate in is now the Yanks. Joseph Listens-to-Wind, Martha Liberty and Ebenezar McCoy should be arriving in roughly five minutes," Severus authoratively announced without so much as checking the chart. The Slytherin had been designated Keeper of the List of Invitees, and therefore he took his role very seriously, which meant that he had memorized the list.

"It will be nice to see Ebenezar again. I haven't seen him in years, ever since he decided to move to the Colonies," Minerva commented. She was making small talk, but for some reason, Severus arched his eyebrow.

"He's a very dear friend," Minerva vainly protested, as she got the distinctive idea that Severus was mentally marking Ebenezar as another charter member of "Those Who've Shagged Minerva McGonagall and Lived to Brag about It" club.

Severus' innocent demeanor changed not a bit, and Minerva glared. What right did the Slytherin have to cast such aspersions on her reputation? Merlin knew that Ebenezar was a hell of a lot of fun, horizontal and vertical.

**_Because the boy is jealous as HELL, Min_**, her conscience reminded her.

"Severus, Ebenezar **_is_** a good friend," she protested in vain. That McCoy was, plus being one hell of a dancer and a rather enthusiastic shagging partner. Truthfully, Ebenezar had an easy laugh.

"Much like Yuri, Minerva?" Albus dryly questioned from behind the two mages.

Severus' lips thinned, and he intently stared at the Apparition Pad, as though he could produce the Yanks contingency through the sheer power of his mind.

**_Aha! I think someone warned a rather large Siberian Brown Bear Animagus not to sniff around!_** Her inner voice remarked gleefully.**_ Looks like someone we know won't be getting lucky tonight!_**

**_Yes, poor Severus,_** Minerva retorted to herself, wondering when she had decided that having mental disagreements with herself was a splendid way in which to pass the time.

**_Because someone needs to keep you in line, and ensure that your knickers stay on!_**

"Well, what a very large crowd," Albus declared brightly. "It speaks well of our Filius that so many have arrived. Speaking of Filius, Rolanda Hooch just informed me that Filius will be arriving early. She'll attempt to delay him, but we need to get everyone ready!"

"Head Master, I still believe that six hundred mages yelling 'Huzzah!' is a sure way to give Filiusa heart attack," Severus tiredly protested. His tone was resigned as Severus knew that his protestations were hopeless, but still, he was still struggling anyway.

Minerva had agreed with Severus on the wisdom of surprising Filius like that.

Naturally, Albus had seriously listened to their point of views, agreed that the two mages' concerns held a great deal of merit and that he would take it into immediate consideration. Then completely unsurprisingly to all that knew Albus, the Hogwarts Head Master had decided to do exactly what Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had originally decided upon.

Almost a thousand mages yelling "Huzzah!" at a nearly two hundred year old mage.

Thank Merlin, Poppy was nearby just in case they gave Filius a massive heart attack.

"Severus, Filius has a far stronger heart than you realize," Albus cheerily assured him. "Now, let's get everyone ready."

* * *

Rolanda Hooch was still attempting to waste as much time as possible. Therefore she put on one thigh high black leather boot and then deliberately broke her boot lace with a quick jerk of her wrist. 

"Bloody hell," she loudly cursed. "Filius, I broke the lace on my boots, so I'll be a few minutes."

She looked into her sitting room. Filius was sitting on her couch, surrounded by the last decade's worth of Quidditch Today magazines which apparently interested him not one iota. He was looking particularly fierce, his mustache was bristling, and his small fingers were drumming an impatient rhythm on the arm of her couch. With a quick flick of his wand, Filius repaired the broken lace and even tightened it quite snugly against her leg.

"Don't even think of breaking the other lace," Filius warned her in a very low, dangerous tone. "Else you will be wearing pink for the next month."

She walked into the room, uncaring that she was wearing just a long shirt and her boots. Every essential bit was covered, after all, and Rolanda had a very loose acquaintance with modesty and morality.

"Why are you so grouchy today, Filius?" Rolanda asked. "It's not like you."

In truth, she was concerned. Considering that there were over five hundred mages were descending on Hogwarts even as she spoke, intent on wishing Filius a Happy Birthday, it did not bode well for the party that the Guest of Honor acting a bit stroppy. Being quarrelsome and bad-tempered was Severus' role in the dysfunctional Hogwarts family after all.

"What's going on, Rolanda?" Filius questioned. "There's something afoot in the Castle, and I'm purposely being left out."

"Why do you believe that, Filius?" Rolanda sat down next to the Charms Instructor.

Hooch debated about crossing her legs, figured it would be extremely bad form to kill Filius on the day of his surprise party, and so she sat primly instead.

Dutifully, Filius recited the various reasons to Rolanda, not expecting a serious response from the Flying Instructor. Filius specifically didn't mention the animagus, but he had an exceedingly thorough list anyway. To his surprise, she nodded her head a few times, and inserted a few insightful comments. When he was done with the list, Hooch gave him a long, searching look.

"Yes, it does appear that the staff is keeping something from you, Filius," Ro agreed. "The fact that you're not needed to referee Severus and Minerva at all times is a certainly cause for alarm. But, Filius, maybe Sev and Min decided to take their animosity to a whole new level."

"You mean, they decided to kill each other?" Filius dryly commented. "They'll be dueling in the Great Hall tomorrow? Am I invited to referee?"

"No, they decided to wear out Severus' mattress, Fi. There are very fine lines between love and hate, love and lust, pleasure and pain. Severus is tall, dark and lanky with a voice that positively drips dark chocolate and sex, Filius, and Min is a bit of a free spirit who adores a challenge. Our beloved Deputy Head Mistress does have round heels, Filius, and adding Severus as a notch on her bedpost would be quite the accomplishment for Min. Plus, Aurora and I have a bet riding on it. I wager than Severus will be completely shell shocked after Min sexes him, while Aurora thinks Min will be the one with the painful limp because Severus' broomstick gave her a rough ride..."

"**_ROLANDA XIOMARA HOOCH!_**" Filius interrupted. "Do you have nothing better to do than gossip about your colleagues' sex lives?"

"Well, I do, but it's not quite as interesting, truth be told, Fi," Rolanda admitted.

Filius shook his head in stunned disbelief, and Ro raucously laughed. Deliberately, she stood up, intentionally showing off her long leather clad legs for Filius. She did love Filius, though truthfully in a very avuncularly-niecey fashion, but that didn't mean that Rolanda wouldn't tease him.

He was male, after all.

Naturally dear, sweet, mild mannered Uncle Filius wasn't having any lip from his crazy niece.

Like hell he didn't just tap her boot with his wand and threaten to turn it pink, did he? She had won these boots fair and square from Sinistra due to a very lucky wager on the Quidditch World Cup, and Filius would be in a great deal of trouble if he Colorized them pink. Time to rapidly change the subject.

"Seriously now, Filius, you didn't want the rest of the staff to know what you were doing with Dolores, why is that? Is it because you didn't trust us?"

"No, not at all!" Filius squeakily insisted, wanting not to imply that he didn't trust Rolanda. He had a very firm idea of what to trust her with, that's all. Flying, yes, Magic, HELL NO! "Like I told you, if anything happens to the three of us, we'll need you and the rest to carry on."

"In other words, that particular job is just for you three, correct?" Rolanda pointedly questioned. "Pomona and the rest of us hens are your backup."

"Yes," Filius admitted. He then softly growled and shook his head. "Ok, Ro, I see your point. I'll shut up and be in a better humor. I just hate not knowing."

"Well, Filius. To everything, there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven. I can assure you will be informed of everything at the proper time," Roland asserted. "Now let me finished getting dressed. Albus gets so upset when I fly around the Quidditch Pitch naked."

Filius laughed.

"That's because he knows that you're teasing him," Filius reminded her. "What you're wearing now is not approved Quidditch wear, Rolanda."

The hawk faced flying instructor attempted to look innocent. Naturally, it failed spectacularly. It's particularly difficult to look angelic when you're wearing thigh high black leather boots and a long shirt.

Especially if you're Rolanda Xiomara Hooch.

* * *

"Rolanda's on her way," Albus stated to Severus and Minerva. "How are we with the arriving mages?" 

_**There is no WE, Albus, Severus and I have been doing everything, while you've been standing in the middle of everything, beaming like a proud papa.**_

"We've got roughly a dozen or so arrivals left," Severus responded quickly. "Then India arrives roughly fifteen minutes after Taipei."

"Good, good. Make sure you leave enough space for Taipei. Qin-Cao Shī has promised to make a truly spectacular arrival," Albus reminded Severus.

Minerva glanced at Albus, concerned because he sounded so damn happy and clappy. The dragon obsessed Qin-Cao Shī from Taiwan was a tad touched, ok, extremely barmy, and her invitation to this event had necessitated Albus assuring Cornelius Fudge that the crazed Shī would most assuredly behave. Cornelius was a bigger fool than Minerva believed him to be if Fudge actually trusted Albus Dumbledore and his assurances.

"She's not bringing a dragon, is she?" Minerva nervously questioned. "Bad enough the Bedouins decided to arrive on flying carpets, but a dragon..."

The witch shook her head, trying not to show her unease, but failing.

Damn it to hell, Albus' blue eyes were merrily twinkling, which was a Very Bad Sign. He was also smiling broadly, which sent a chill up and down Minerva's backbone.

"Speaking of dragons, did Umbridge finish composing her speech? You know, the one praising Filius Flitwick as a model instructor who is on probation only because of his Goblin heritage?" Minerva snapped, wishing to remove Albus' smile from his face, as it made him look madder than a hatter.

Albus' blue eyes twinkled even more, and he looked inordinately pleased with himself, which knowing Albus as well as Minerva did, was an immediate reason for one to start running around in circles, screaming and shouting.

"Ah, did I forget to mention? Your probationary statues were reevaluated this morning. As of one hour ago, Filius Flitwick is no longer on probation. Sadly, you two still are on probation as apparently Dolores doesn't believe that you are... team players..." Albus beamed, BEAMED at that bit of news, and then paused before twisting the knife. "I assured her that you two will work harder on it. Instructors at Hogwarts **_must_** be team players!"

Severus clenched his hands together as though to prevent himself from strangling Albus, and Minerva wondered the propriety of ripping Albus a new hole in front of five hundred foreign mages.

No, that would be bad, very bad, though an experience worth savoring.

"Oh, look," Albus smugly stated, delighting in the fact that he had gotten both their knickers twisted in knots and they could do absolutely nothing about it. He pointed toward the cloudy sky that was outside the patch of blue sky that surrounded the Quidditch Pitch. "There's our Guest of Honor, and Rolanda now."

* * *

At long last, Rolanda had gotten completely dressed, and the two of them were on their way to the Quidditch Pitch. The Quidditch coach, noticing that he was in a bit of hurry to get the Quidditch Pitch safety charms done as soon as possible, was kind enough to fly them over rather than taking the time to walk over. 

Perhaps walking would have been safer, Filius debated, as Rolanda had positioned him in front of her on her broom, and had then jumped out her sixth story window. There had been a feeling akin to a heart attack when the broom didn't respond immediately after their exit and they were rapidly plummeting to the ground. But knowing Rolanda for as long as he did, Filius knew that the witch was deliberately attempting to scare him. Therefore, Filius had bit his lip and refrained from shrilly screaming a modified Wingardium Leviosa. No, instead, he had his wand tightly clenched in his fist, ready to swish and flick himself to safety. Perhaps he'd save Rolanda, and perhaps he wouldn't, but either way, Rolanda would learn not to pull hair brain first year stunts like this ever again.

"We'll need to stop at my office," Rolanda insisted, not making even a token attempt to hide her disappointment that she had failed to scare the itty bitty knickers off Filius Flitwick. "We need to pick up a safety harness for you."

"I don't need a harness," Filius protested.

"Filius, tying people up is such fun. You shouldn't disappoint an old hen like me, besides,**_ Safety First!_**" Rolanda's voice was firm. "I'm not letting you fall off because I get distracted. You'll need to fly tandem, you know that."

"I hate flying in the bitch seat," retorted the diminutive Charms Instructor, who was, sad to admit, acting a bit stroppy after experiencing the joys of defenestration first hand. "I can't see anything when I fly behind you. I don't know how you expect me to cast protection spells when I can't see anything besides your bloody bum!"

"Very well, I'll let you sit in the Captain's position," Rolanda decided. "But you'll have to pay for calling it a bitch seat, Filius. Very shameful use of language after all, and that comment about my bum? Hmph! Ten points from Ravenclaw!"

She put her large hands over his eyes, and the broom began descending at a very fast clip.

Filius Flitwick sighed, and wondered why he had agreed to help Rolanda with the Quidditch Pitch."

Because nobody else was stupid enough, he decided.

* * *

Rolanda Hooch had flown to the Quidditch Pitch and was landing her broom in the midst of the celebration. She had Filius sitting in front of her, and both of her hands were covering Filius' eyes. With a barely noticeable bump, the witch gracefully landed in the field, and then lowered her broom until Filius was standing on the ground. The witch was bent awkwardly, her hands still covering Filius' eyes. 

"Enough, Rolanda!" Filius' voice squeakily protested. "Unless you're planning on molesting me in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch, you will take your hands off my eyes this very moment."

Severus quietly snarked a comment about Rolanda handling her 'Filiusnapping' in a matter suitable to the hallowed traditions of Hogwarts.

It was a damn shame that she hadn't worn her boots with the spiky heels, as Minerva would have delightedly jabbed the Potions Master in his instep for that all too true comment.

"Tsk, tsk, Filius, you need to learn to ask nicely," Rolanda retorted. The witch was obviously enjoying being the center of attention.

"Ro," the Charms Instructor growled. "I am not amused!"

He tapped her hands with his wand, and there was a noise that sounded like an electrical shock.

Rolanda jumped back, blew on her hands as thought putting out a fire and loudly protested,"That wasn't nice, Filius Flitwick! You're an evil, evil man!"

Filius turned to face Rolanda, his legendary stock of inexhaustible goodnaturedness and amiability having apparently run dry. He pointed one finger at Rolanda, about to launch a blistering reprimand when he noticed Yuri standing behind Rolanda.

The Bear Mage had one thick eyebrow quirked, and his large fingers were making the Russian gesture for 'Temper, temper'.

A stunned Filius turned, saw Tanaka Yukiro, well, what parts of Yukiro that were visible as his purring demiguise was still clinging to the Japanese mage, and then Filius continued to pivot, stunned by the vast array of familiar faces.

And there was….

Silence.

The Bedouins were silent, having stopped singing and dancing some time previously, their hookah untouched, their flying carpets still.

The South African Mages, still having communication difficulties, hadn't realized that they were supposed to be yelling "Huzzah", so they were quiet, because everyone else was. The lead Zebra snorted, then pawed one hoof in the grass of the Quidditch Pitch, tearing up the turf.

Filius appeared stunned, whether over the damage to the turf or because of the assorted mages Minerva wasn't quite sure, and he turned again.

Ebenezar, Talks-with-Wind and Martha stood quietly, and Ebenezar nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Why wasn't anyone saying _**anything**_?

Not even Filius had decided to speak, though he appeared completely and utterly Confounded.

Not any of the seven hundred and seventy odd guests decided to speak, though no doubt Severus could give her an official, correct count of the exact numbers of mouths that were remaining silent.

Not.

One.

Single.

Word.

Deliberately, Minerva reached for Severus' hand, seeking support because everything had gone horribly wrong. Filius wasn't smiling, and Albus wasn't saying anything! She grabbed his hand firmly, and Severus responded by squeezing her hand tightly.

Then one single voice spoke.

**_"Huzzah_**, Filius," Severus Snape matter-of-factly stated.

Oh Merlin, she could both kissed and killed Severus at that very moment as Filius quirked a smile.

Fortunately or unfortunately for Severus, there was then a very loud, sizzling whistle and a small crackle of fireworks popping. Everyone turned to face the fireworks, thinking it was part of the event, and then there was a loud "BOOM" that shook the stadium.

What she saw then caused Minerva McGonagall to curse.

Fluently.

_In Gaelic._

Scarlet and smooth scaled, the serpentine animal possessed a fringe of golden spikes around a snub-snouted face and prominent black eyes. It snorted, and mushroom-shaped flames burst from its nostrils. There was a Chinese Fireball Dragon in the Quidditch Pitch, and it was busy chasing its own tail.

Was that not enough?

Hell, no, as there was music consisting of string instruments, flutes and various other percussion instruments. The music was loud, it was atonal, at least accounting for Minerva's strong preference for the classical European composers, and the dragon was twisting and turning along to the beat.

It was pretty, Minerva thought. It was even hypnotic, in a strange, dreamy Oriental way. Hagrid would be beside himself that he had missed this.

But it was most assuredly ILLEGAL AS HELL!

"It appears that Qin-Cao Shī has arrived," Severus dryly announced.

And the dragon continued to dance in the blue skies over the Quidditch Pitch, even as fireworks rained from the sky.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Disclaimer:_** Not my characters.

**_Disclaimer # 2: _**Considering this is supposed to be an angsty/romance fic, no one's gotten the slightest bit lucky yet. So I tried to rectify that in this chapter.Who is the lucky soul? Filius? Minerva? Rolanda? Severus? Read and find out.

**_Note:_** Since Dame Arcane was my 100th reviewer, and I was so pathetically happy that people are reading and reviewing this, I asked her what she wanted to see in the story. The last few paragraphs are for her. It's not quite what you wanted, but it is. In a way.

**_Note #2_**: Now, while it was tempting, I simply couldn't have the dragon bite Albus.

**_Thxs_** to Linze for helpful suggestions.

* * *

The Chinese Fireball Dragon, uncaring of the fact that it was an illegal magical alien creature, and an uninvited visitor to the festivities to boot, continued to boogie merrily in the sky. It zigged, it zagged, it chased its tail around the sky and then with a loud noise, akin to Infamous Grand Collision in the Quidditch World Cup of 1887 where due to a lack of visibility because of a pea soup thick fog, the two teams collided into a grand mass of broken humanity leaving only the two Keepers to battle for the cup, the dragon decided to split. 

Into two Chinese Fireball Dragons, who then started energetically chasing each other around the Quidditch Pitch. There was a small bang, and the words, "Happy Birthday, Filius!" in electric blue trailed behind the dragons.

Filius grinned brightly and then loudly applauded.

"Bravo! Bravo! This must be Qin-Cao Shī! I know her dragons anywhere!"

The witch did put on one heck of a show, Minerva had to admit. A tad flashy, a bit ostentatious, but even Minerva found herself applauding with the rest of the audience when at the very end of the sky aerobatics, the now eight little Chinese Fireball dragonettes landed and were replaced by eight mages from Taiwan. The raven haired Shī, naturally, insisted on bowing and dramatically flourishing her cape to the appreciative crowd.

"They're not animagi, are they?" Severus softly whispered.

"No, the dragons were illusions and the mages Apparated into where the 'dragons' landed," Filius softly explained. "It took a great deal of effort to choreograph that. Speaking of choreographers, you two are in a great deal of trouble. I'm quite vexed with you both."

Minerva and Severus exchanged looks of innocent surprise.

"Who us?" Minerva softly questioned. "Why do are you angry at _**us**_?"

"Come here, you bastards," Filius tearfully insisted. "You bloody, bloody bastards."

The Charms Instructor held out his arms, and Minerva crouched down to Filius' level and she embraced him. Minerva then yanked a reluctant Severus down to their level and Filius hugged both of them tightly.

"You bloody, bloody bastards. You're making me cry," Filius wept, obviously overwhelmed by the party. "In front of everyone. You got _**everyone**_ here for me."

The three of them were soon engulfed by the majority of the Hogwarts Staff. Rolanda Hooch apparently goosed Severus on his arse, as Severus jumped.

The crowd applauded, and then finally having decided that better late then never, it was now time for them to yell, _**'Huzzah, Filius**_!"

"You all knew about this?" Filius whispered, his voice shaking. "And you deliberately kept it from me."

"Aye, that we did, Fi! Poor Filius thought something was going on because Min and Severus were being friendly. But I assured him that he was mistaken, because Severus and Minerva were actually shagging. They were having bed slat breaking, mattress ripping sex, night and day!" Rolanda shouted that, and Minerva attempted to kick the witch.

Filius laughed and all was right with the universe.

* * *

_**Thirty minutes later:**_

Albus placed his wand against his throat and spoke one word, "Sonorous".

"And now," his voice thundered in the Quidditch Pitch, drowning out the five hundred or so mages that were busy chatting, noshing and showing off to various friends, but not necessarily particularly in that order.

Albus waited until the crowd settled down before continuing to orate, "Our final Guests!"

Flitwick gave Minerva and Severus a very crooked smile. His eyes were suspiciously moist, but his voice gruff when he dryly commented, "Usually the last guests are the biggest surprise. I can't imagine who could possibly top Taipei's dragon fireworks."

"You'll be surprised," Minerva quipped.

"Merlin knows that I am," Severus dryly remarked. He looked toward the skies, didn't see the damn birds anywhere, and inwardly began to panic. India was fifteen minutes late already!

"Hush, Severus," Minerva hissed in a very soft voice.

"I am honored to introduce the following to you," Albus continued to speak, deliberately drawing out the tension. "Filius Flitwick, I indeed, most privileged to present to you..."

Albus paused, and out of the corner of Severus' right eye, Snape saw the birds. The three of them were high in the sky, circling the arena.

"Visitors, who are stepping onto the grounds of Hogwarts for the first time in over seventy years…." dramatically continued the Hogwarts Headmaster. Truthfully he enjoyed a captive audience, and unlike his speech at the End of the Year Feast, most of the spectators present would listen to him out of ingrained sense of politeness, if nothing else.

Two of the birds, Severus thought they were the eagles most likely, began to dive, and people began to point. Filius turned, saw the birds, and turned pale.

"What have you two done?" Filius whispered. "Is that why they came?"

"The India School of Magic, Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Albus crowed in delight, while the audience gasped in surprise.

The shock and awe over the isolated India's arrival rapidly turned into applause with Albus, naturally, leading the ovation.

"May I present to you, Senior Deputy Head Master Bharadwaj Singh, Sant Sipahi, Elemental Wind Mage, Order of Merlin, Second Class and his wife, Senior Deputy Head Mistress Jaya Kaur, Sant Sipahi, Elemental Wind Mage, Order of Merlin, Second Class."

The two eagles transformed, mid-air, into their human forms, and landed neatly on their feet, roughly twenty odd meters apart. The wizard and witch were quite exotic looking, dark skinned with dark eyes. The man's flowing gray beard was neatly constrained with a beard tie and both wore neat turbans that matched their clothes, hiding their hair away from public view. The Sikhs appeared solemn and stern, but Severus actually believed that they were secretly quite chuffed with the hullabaloo that their arrival had caused.

The two Sikh mages gracefully extended their right arms on which they both wore a steel bracelet, and they then spoke one word in unison. A green banner appeared between them, bearing the all too familiar Eagle sigil of the India School. The unsupported banner rippled in the breeze, the non-existent westerly breeze, as the breeze in the Quidditch pitch was now coming from the Northwest, Severus realized.

You could hear a pin drop and Filius' sharp inhale of breath.

"But that is not all. May I introduce, Vice-Headmaster, Mohammed Masood, Elemental Fire Mage, Order of Merlin First Class, and Eternal Defender of the Northern Gate!"

The Phoenix shrieked loudly and deliberately dove toward Filius. Being a bloody show off as it appeared to be something inherent in the water of India, Severus dryly noted, the mage also transformed into human form in mid-air, and softly landed in front of Filius. The India mage knelt in front of Filius, and the two Sikhs also knelt, leaving the waving banner unattended.

The mage looked like hell, Severus clinically thought.

Masood was sweating profusely, his limp gray hair drenched, the dark stains of sweat darkening his red silk sherwani. His left sleeve hung empty, and his face was dominated by a black eye patch over his left eye. His animagus form truthfully reflected the physical realities of his human form. His face was gaunt, as though a high fever had boiled off his excess weight, leaving just the fevered shell of the man beneath.

"Namasté, Master Flitwick-ji." Masood stated quietly. "I salute the divinity within you. India pays heed to Filius Flitwick-ji, and acknowledges the debt we can never repay."

He performed the mudrā as well as he was able, deliberately placing his right hand over his head to show his high respect for Filius. The two Sikhs put their hands together and murmured softly.

"Mohammed, Bharadwaj, Jaya...," Filius whispered, wiping the tears from his eyes before continuing to speak. "You came all this way for me."

Filius reached out for Mohammed and hugged the mage.

Severus had dust in his eyes from the all the dirt that had been raised due to the showy, fancy landings of the various Indian mages, so he had to blink his eyes rapidly to clear the grit from his eyes. It was for no other reason, he knew, but he had to blink just because of all the damn dirt. Meanwhile, the stern Minerva had unbent enough to wipe her tearing eyes, and even Albus was sniffling.

The hug was quickly completed, and then Filius grabbed Mohammed by his shoulders.

"Lad, you're Burning," Filius whispered. "Why? Why did India send you when you're so close to the Burn?"

"It was deemed necessary, Master Flitwick-ji."

The mage stood and walked away from Filius. He stopped in front of the green banner of India and held out his right hand. Masood's hand was full of dancing flames, and the fire mage stared transfixed.

_**Naturally**_, India had to play with fire, Severus mentally growled. They had to show up late, play with fire, and no doubt the next item on their agenda of _**Things to Do so this Party would Go Done in History as a Truly Bad Idea**_ was burn down Hogwarts.

Deliberately, he grabbed his wand, prepared to cast the Aguamenti spell as soon as it was necessary. It made him feel no easier to know that Minerva was reaching for her wand that she had hidden up her sleeve.

"The India School of Magic, Witchcraft and Wizardly has invited Master Filius Flitwick-ji to return to our school so we may pay him honor. Alas, Flitwick-ji has refused to return to India, claiming outstanding obligations to Hogwarts. Your Indian children are made sad by your refusal, Garuda, though we understand that your unintentional snub is based on sorrow and grief."

The India mage voice was flame and thunder, echoing in the Quidditch Pitch, and he began to wandlessly create intricate sigils of fire, deliberately tracing patterns with his right hand and fingers. The crescent moon, the cross, the khanda, the pranava, the dharma wheel and other sigils that Severus failed to recognize were formed and sent toward the green banner. Before too long, the green banner was merrily ablaze.

"Therefore, since Garuda will not come to India, _**INDIA HAS DECIDED THAT IT MUST COME TO GARUDA!"  
**_  
Flitwick screamed, an unholy sound, "_**MASOOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!"**_

Instinctively, Severus and Minerva grabbed Filius to prevent him from running toward the Indian mage. It was fortunate that they had thwarted Filius, for the Indian Mage laughed loudly and completely burst into flames.

There was total chaos.

Wizards and witches were scrambling to get away from the immolating mage, Albus' insisted upon ice sculptures were melting into torrents, and Severus' soul was screaming_** Garuda, mortal enemy of snakes,**_ was actually Filius Flitwick.

The green banner of India was no longer burning, and where it once proudly waved, there was a portal that overlooked a mountain range.

An icy cold wind blew, a westerly wind, Severus noticed, and snow crunched underfoot as a large tiger walked toward the portal. His coloring was remarkable, strawberry blonde and white and his dark blue eyes held a human intelligence. The tiger looked at the burning mage then obviously dismissed the pyre as unimportant. For a long moment, the tiger stood there, and then shook, so to shake off the heavy snow that was covering his coat. One moment, he was a tiger, the next, the tiger was a man. He was of light complexion with light reddish blonde hair that was turning white and blue eyes, but the cut of his white clothes was unmistakably Indian.

"First, I will assure you that there is no need to fear Masood." The mage glanced at both Minerva and Severus, and then tilted his head. "His burning has been off cycle for decades, and the stress of his journey has caused him to Burn earlier than we anticipated. He'll cease Burning soon enough and Mohammed will also look much better then he did before. He was looking rather ratty, I fear."

How absolutely non-reassuring, Severus cynically thought. Like bloody hell would he trust an Indian Animagus who wasn't shivering even though he appeared to be standing in the midst of a snowstorm in the Himalayas. What was he saying? Like hell he'd ever trust an Indian mage!

"Namasté, Master Flitwick-ji, Master Dumbledore-ji." The mage executed a picture perfect anjali mudra, his hands raised above his head to show his respect. "I am Senior Deputy Head Master Nigel Rhys St. John, Order of Merlin First Class, and Guardian of the Eastern Gate. May I have your permission to enter your school grounds, Headmaster Dumbledore-ji?"

"The right is willingly granted," Albus announced.

St. John stepped out of the portal, causing a slight ripple effect. His clothes turned a dark green as they exited the snowy location and entered Hogwart's, the green color spreading like dye in water across his clothes.

Having entered Hogwarts, the mage then calmly greeted each Hogwarts' Instructor by name, smiling slightly when he greeted Severus. Then with a deliberate grace, St. John extended his right palm outward, fingers upright and his left palm facing downward. Filius returned the gesture, though rather shakily, and Nigel quirked a slight smile.

"Our sincerest apologies, Master Filtwick-ji. We truly did not believe that Masood would Burn so soon, and we needed both him and our two Sant Sipahis here to position the Gate. I know the sight of Mohammed in flames is upsetting to you, but for us, it is who Mohammed Shujaat Masood truly is. He is a child of Agni," Nigel softly explained.

"One day, you _**must**_ truly explain to me how a Muslim can be a child of the Hindu God of Fire," Filius softly retorted.

"The Sacred Fire is part of every religion," Nigel retorted. "But I must not argue semantics with you; Master Flitwick-ji for there is your friend Severus Tobias Snape, a very _**fierce**_ mage, wishing me quite utterly dead with his eyes. I must hasten in my presentation; perhaps then my life will be saved."

The mage gestured at Severus, and nodded his head.

"Will you stop glaring daggers at me if I promise that one of my fine friends will fix your melting ice sculptures?" questioned Nigel.

Rolanda Hooch laughed, and Nigel beamed.

"Masood, Jaya, Bharadwaj, the Eastern Gate has been opened," the Indian mage calmly announced. "They are expecting Mohammed."

The burning mage, who had been quietly burning all this time as apparently no one could get a world in edgewise with the extremely talkative Nigel, shrieked once, transformed into his Phoenix form and then escaped into the portal.

The scene changed.

It was no longer the Himalayas, but a green, lush valley. There was a compound consisting of assorted buildings, large gardens full of flowers, trees and various statues, flowing streams and rambling brooks. The largest building had a large dome, and it was adorned with various flags, the largest one by far was the green eagle flag of India.

And naturally, being hopeless showoffs, the Indians had decided it necessary to outdo Taiwan.

If Taiwan had native music, India insisted on European Opera.

_Sous le dôme épais  
Où le blanc jasmin  
À la rose s'assemble  
Sur la rive en fleurs,  
Riant au matin  
Viens, descendons ensemble._

"Sous le dôme épais," Filius whispered. "It's from Léo Delibes's opera Lakmé. It translates, into under the thick dome where the white jasmine, with the roses entwined together. On the river bank, covered with flowers, laughing in the morning, let us descend together!"

The burning Phoenix descended, and it flew into an open doorway into a long corridor.

There were a wizard and two witches standing in the long corridor, apparently waiting for the Phoenix, and then as the Phoenix flew past them, the three mages then exited the portal, finding themselves standing in the Quidditch Pitch. The three of them seemed slightly uneasy, but quickly saluted Filius before standing next the portal.

"It's a nonplottable, transdimensional portal activated by an animagus?" Filius softly questioned. "Being poweredby at least three mages? That's... impressive, Nigel. Pretty damn impressive."

The mage smiled briefly, and then spoke,"Not three mages, Master Flitwick-ji. One, as Masood's burning provided the energy for the portal. Jaya and Bharadwaj are anchoring it, while I provide the conduit.."

Before long, dozens of other Indian mages arrived through the portal.

Filius recognized them all, a few obviously meaning a great deal to him. There was a snow leopard that bounded through the portal, changing into Zakiyah, a witch dressed in flowing robes and a hijab, and a blind Divination instructor named Ravindra Jain. These two in particular were given hugs and kisses by a teary Filius.

But still, even more mages were exiting the portal and there appeared to be no end in site.

The Phoenix landed in a lush garden. There were exotic plants, numerous statues and a large crowd. Severus couldn't begin to estimate a realistic count, but there were hundreds of people, if not _**thousands**_. The cheering crowd consisted of both students and instructors, and Severus realized that they were in over their heads.

Bloody hell, he was in over his head.

Filius was _**GARUDA**_.

The Indians were running amuck, and that meant that the odds of someone being there when he was parading around knickerless in their Head Mistress' mirror were steadily increasing. The way Nigel had smirked at him meant that he knew about it, or else had witnessed it.

"Bloody hell, they're bringing the entire school," Severus quietly whispered, in a valiant attempt at regaining some control of the situation that was spiraling out of control. "We'll need more food, Minerva!"

"Do not worry, Severus Tobias Snape, we're not bringing them all through. Our Head Mistress was in contact with Master Dumbledore-ji, and he agreed that a double fists was permissible." St. John smiled, obviously having a rather odd sense of humor. "I trust that he understood that we were utilizing the standard measurement, rather that using Masood's double fist."

Albus had been in contact with the school? _**ALBUS!**_ Minerva muttered a soft comment about killing Dumbledore and Severus mentally agreed.

"I think we're long past ten," Rolanda helpfully offered.

Professor Vector inserted quickly, "A double fists is a hundred, Ro. Ten fingers ten times, as opposed to a double fist...?"

The Arithmancy witch paused, realizing Rolanda only cared about numbers relative to Quidditch scores and wagers, and so Septima declared the cause lost. Nigel winked at Septima, obviously appreciative of a witch with a mathematically inclined mind, and then smiled broadly.

"For Masood, it is twenty five. Five fingers times five."

The Indian mage then looked like someone caught skiving Divination when he realized that the Sikh Witch, Jaya, was bestowing a truly evil look upon him. St. John straightened his posture, and delicately gestured with his hands.

There was a female witch, wrapped in a black and scarlet sari, standing in front of the portal, apparently the last mage to leave India. Her eyes were dark and her face was severe. The woman had both arms crossed in front of her chest, and she was deliberately tapping her right fingers on her left arm, as though saying, "_**Hurry up, Nigel**_".

"Master Dumbledore-ji, Master Filius-ji, Honored Instructors of Hogwarts and fellow Mages, may I introduce Kritika Mukhopadhyay, Head Mistress?" Nigel questioned.

"You are welcome to Hogwarts, Head Mistress Mukhopadhyay," Albus intoned.

The Indian witch stepped into Hogwarts via the portal, and she gestured with her hands. The portal shrank, and then eleven of the mages moved into position behind her even as Masood returned through the portal. He transformed back into his human form, and Kritika gestured once more. With a swift fluid motion, the thirteen mages prostrated themselves in front of Filius.

Kritika reached toward Flitwick, and touched his shoes with her right hand.

"Stand up," Filius whispered. "Please, friends. Stand up."

"It's a sign of respect," Minerva whispered to Severus, her mouth not moving at all. "Very high sign."

The Indians refused to move, and Filius gently touched Kritika on her head with his right hand. He leaned over her and whispered to her, and she remained prostrate.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Kritika," Filius repeated. "Now, please... stand. Nigel, please stand. Ravindra? Zakiyah? Please, stand."

The Indians flowed into a sitting position, and Filius spoke to each one. Then with a quick gesture from Albus, the music started, and the Hogwarts House-elves began serving food. The party began once again, and Severus noticed that the seemingly feckless Nigel was soon escorting a female Jain to the various melting ice structures which she fixed.

In fact, she _**improved**_ on them.

Was it really necessary to have flying ice eagles and phoenixes over the large Hogwarts Ice Castle? Merlin's bloody knickers, she had even created a few flying ice Chinese Fireball dragons that were snorting ice pellets.

Showoffs! That's what they were!  
_**  
Hi! We're BACK! Notice us!**_

* * *

**Two hour later.**

Severus Snape sat in the shade provided by the tent, and watched the hustle and bustle of the crowds. It was amusing watching Dolores Umbridge attempt to weasel her way into conversations with the various Very Important Mages, all of which attempted to flee her presence. Some successfully, some not. He had a cold glass of blood red elf wine in front of him, and he mindlessly rubbed the rim of the glass with one finger.

He watched the boisterous crowd, but his eyes kept drawing back to _**Garuda**_.

Yes, Garuda most assuredly would be having it away later on in his suite. Kritika was flirting with Filius, and Filius was grinning like a naughty school boy, complete with one small finger rubbing the skin under his collar. Filius was standing so closely next to Kritika, and she was sitting so that they were eye to eye.

Quite considerate of her, really.

Zounds, he hated the witch.

Not really, it wasn't true hatred.

The emotion was more of an all encompassing envy because the school girl Kritika had obviously quite fancied Filius, hero of the Kali Massacre, Bloody Garuda, Killer of Nāgas, General Defender and Savior of Innocents and all around decent bloke for quite a long while. Now that Filius had stopped viewing her as a former student and saw the rather exotic looking witch as his equal, she had decided it was her chance to shag Garuda until the holy cows came home, and shag him good.

And it had taken the accomplished Filius quite a bit longer to catch on to Kritika's plans.

There was no doubt in Severus' mind that Filius would be fairly embarrassed to know that Rolanda Hooch had been collecting wagers from the female instructors from the very moment that Filius' glance had first lingered on the rather shapely Kritika. With almost seventy five years of feminine wiles and planning all single mindedly focused on the goal of shagging the Charms Instructor, wrapped in a brightly colored sari that clung to her curves and yet revealed absolutely nothing about the woman underneath, Filius had never stood a chance.

Hell, even he had noticed on the sexual tension between the two, long before Flitwick had blinked twice in the midst of a conversation with Kritika, turned fuchsia and then had to apologize for losing his train of thought.

Severus knew shouldn't watch them, but Merlin's bloody cloak, Kritika made it look so damn easy. Just a few touches, a smoldering look and Filius hadn't even felt the trap spring shut. He bit back a laugh, trying to imagine another student turned instructor he knew seducing a former Professor.

Oh yes, it would just be so easy to touch Minerva's hands with his potion stained, heavily callused and scarred ones, and then the witch, overwhelmed by his smoldering sexuality, would repeatedly ravage him in front of the entire assembled crowds as they all gaped and took notes.

Severus decided to take a sip of his wine, as he really needed to be doing something. The flavor of wine was cool and crisp against his tongue, and he closed his eyes to concentrate on savoring the taste before swallowing.

Oh damn it to bloody hell, this entire party had just proved how socially inept he was. No friends, no comrades, no acquaintances who even wanted to risk sitting next to greasy git. Damn it, he was aching something fierce, wanting, craving to be touched by someone… anyone… If he snuck off now… he could get to Penelope's before she closed the Shoppe for the night… and Albus would know.

Never thought he'd miss the girls at Penelope's, but oh, how he did.

Oh bloody hell; how he missed the sensation of being touched. He'd never be as lucky as Filius, to have the delight of an attractive, intelligent woman flirting with him because she wanted to bed him. The girls had been willing at the brothels, just as long as he paid… but now…he would only experience the joys of a Dark Revel, of forcing himself on women who'd beg and plead for him to stop.

Bloody hell!

That reminded him!

Garuda… well… Filius… well… Kritika had plans tonight. What would happen if the Dark Lord decided to have a get together tonight and call the Death Eaters over for high tea at the local crypt? Filius would be interrupted, and oh Bloody, bloody hell… he couldn't do that to Filius or Kritika, not after seventy odd years of planning. There was a tracer on him, some sort of bond that ensured Filius knew where he was at all times. He needed to sever it, so Filius could have his fun.

Raising the wine glass to his lips, he closed his eyes. If anyone looked his way, they'd think he was savoring the taste of the wine. No, he was trying to detect the minute disturbances caused by the magic of the link between him and Filius. Knowing Filius, it would be damn near impossible to find, and most likely there would be more than one connection.

It took a few minutes of meditation, but he found the two... no the three links to Filius. With a surgical precision, he began to gently disconnect the ties. It was imperative that Filius never know what he had done; else the wizard would be noble and re-establish the link.

* * *

He was chatting with the sitting Kritika, blushing like a school boy when he felt his personal wards tremble. Raising one hand, he gestured for silence. Kritika immediately ceased talking, while he attempted to discover what had set off his defenses. Remarkable woman, most people would have wanted to know what the problem was. Not Kritika, she trusted him enough to know that sometimes his explanations had to wait. She had been like that in Mumbai, the stoic Head Girl who had kept the younger students calm. When a few students' voices had been raised, demanding explanations for what he had been planning, she had silenced them, stating that the time for explanations was later, the time for action now. 

Closing his eyes, he pivoted, attempting to trace the disturbance.

Ah! There it was. He opened his eyes to see that Severus Snape was sitting at the exact angle from which the alarm had come. Even as he was glaring at the boy, he felt another tremor in his personal wards.

Damn the boy, Severus was removing the tracers!

Severus then noticed that Filius was watching him. The Slytherin smiled, so slightly that only someone that knew Severus damn well knew would know that the ghastly smirk was in fact a smile, and Snape raised his glass in a toast. Then he also gestured in Kritika's direction, and Severus nodded his head.

Once.

_**I do this for you. Tonight you need not worry about me, Filius.**_

What could he do? Only accept the heartfelt gesture; nevertheless, he wasn't going to just toss the boy out with the bath water.

"I'm sorry, 'Tika. I need to speak to Minerva, it's a student matter. Just came up, you understand."

She smiled, and made her way to her feet in an easy grace that left him envious. To be a hundred or so years younger once again.

"I should not monopolize your time. There are other people wishing to speak to you, and we will talk... later," Kritika promised.

"Talk? We'll be _**talking**_?" He couldn't help but quip.

The witch raised one eyebrow, and then deliberately leaned down in order to kiss him. It stunned him, first that Kritika was being so damn demonstrative, as Indians never kissed in public and secondly that he rather eagerly kissed the witch back. Filius appreciated the fact that he should be embarrassed as everyone was no doubt watching the two of them snog like a bunch of hormonal teenagers, but bloody hell, he didn't care.

It was his bloody birthday party after all.

He was almost one hundred and eighty one years old, and it was nice to prove to one and to all that the old dog still had some bite left.

Hopefully Rolanda Hooch was getting an eyeful.

The witch ceased kissing him, and then whispered in his ear, "Don't worry, Master Flitwick-ji, I'm sure there won't be a lot of talking."

"Filius, you must call me _**Filius**_!"

Kritika grinned slightly, a rather exotic, bemused smirk.

Oh Merlin, if she killed him tonight, he'd die a lucky man.

He trekked off to find Minerva, with a spring in his step, but he didn't whistle. Like bloody hell was he going to whistle around Rolanda Hooch.

* * *

Minerva was chatting with Ebenezar McCoy when Filius interrupted their discussion. "I'm sorry, Ebenezar, may I drag this beautiful woman away from you?" 

McCoy quickly agreed, saying that he needed to speak to Martha Liberty. Minerva tried not to sigh, but watching the kilt-wearing Mage disappear into the crowd, she realized that another witch mightgrab him before she found him again. Merlin, she'd never get good and shagged tonight, not if every time someone started sniffing around her, Albus, Severus or Filius interrupted. She had been having the most stimulating, rousing conversation with Nigel and Mohammed, as it appeared that the two mages were _together_, yet still their eyes conveyed that they were interested…

Then Masood had dryly mentioned to Nigel how exceedingly well she rode tandem and how well she handled a bucking broomstick, and if she could have shagged the boys then and there, she would have.

Severus had disrupted that conversation, purportedly due to a situation with the party that needed her immediate attention, and she had nearly howled and wept in utter frustration. Mohammed was serious and intense, Nigel the trickster and jester… that would have been _**intense**_.

She was still a young girl at heart!

She could have easily handled both of them, and had them begging for more!

But now, Minerva would never know, as now the two mages were flirting with Rolanda. _**Rolanda**_!

Besides, deliberately avoiding Severus.

What was that boy doing? Yuri wouldn't even talk to her without looking first for Severus!

"Min, will do me a favor? Don't agree until you hear what I need," Filius pleaded.

"Yes," she assured him. She shouldn't growl at Filius, it wasn't his fault that her best hopes of getting shagged were running for the hills thanks to a bunch of overprotective boy scouts.

"It's Severus; he's removed several of the tracers I have on him. Would you watch over the boy tonight? I'll... be ... busy," Filius shyly admitted, and Minerva refrained from bitterly chirping in "_With Kritika_?"

_**Bitter, Minerva, that's what you are! **_Her inner voice moaned in disapproval.

_**YES, BECAUSE WE'RE NOT GETTING SHAGGED TONIGHT! **_

"He's not as clever as he believes himself to be, because he didn't remove all of them. I can transfer one of them to you, and you'll know if he's... summoned. All you need to do is wait for him to return to his quarters. If he needs medical help, you summon Poppy."

"How will I know if he's summoned?" Minerva questioned.

"You'll feel an ache in your left forearm. I usually go to his quarters and wait for him. Sometimes he's back within an hour, other times; he's been gone for almost a day. It's so very important, Min, that there's someone waiting for him when he returns." Filius intently whispered. "If you don't want the responsibility, Min, I'll understand."

Minerva glared, as though Filius truly believed she wouldn't take the tracer. She was dependable! She knew her responsibilities! And Minerva McGonagall would fulfill her duties even if that those two delectable animagi from India were busy with Rolanda.

_**ROLANDA!**_

"I'll _**do**_ it, Filius. So how do we transfer the tracer?"

"Touch," Filius said simply. "Physical contact. Skin to skin. You won't feel a thing, and I know that he won't."

He gestured, and then touched Minerva's hand.

"Did you feel that?" questioned Filius softly.

"Not really," she admitted.

"That's the idea. It's an extremely delicate piece of Charmwork. Now all you have to do is touch Severus. It should be skin because clothing won't hold the charm."

"What if I touch someone besides Severus? Accidentally," she explained.

"It won't work. It's specifically tuned to Severus," Filius assured her.

* * *

Severus had lost track of Filius, and he wondered where he was. Kritika was busy chatting with some of the Taipei crowd, and so Severus decided to nosh. To his surprise, he bumped into Minerva with unexpected force. She grabbed his hand, and the witch appeared to stumble. 

"Are you all right?" He softly questioned.

Minerva was still holding tightly to his hand, and he was surprised that she hadn't let go.

"Damn tuffet. It tripped me." the witch insisted in a rather quavering voice, pointing at the offending piece of turf. "I should just Obliterate it out of existence. Just so it learns its lesson and doesn't attempt that with anyone else."

Severus tried not to smile, but failed.

"Have you been drinking, Miss McGonagall?" He questioned; his voice full of concern.

"There's this happy little House Elf that keeps refilling my glass," Minerva explained. "I just hold out my glass like this."

She demonstrated, holding her glass just so, and yes, a rather happy, little House Elf popped into existence a meter or so away and quickly filled her glass.

"Thank you, Mags," Minerva called out to the House Elf who appeared simply delighted that Minerva had decided to speak to her.

Well, he couldn't blame the house elf for that. Merlin knew that he was always thrilled when Minerva acknowledged him. The witch teetered for a moment, and Severus helped her to the nearest chair. He took the glass from her hand, and put it on the far edge of the table.

"Sit down; you need something to eat, Minerva. You can't drink all day and not have anything in your stomach. Let me get you something to eat," he insisted. "I swear that you should know better!"

Minerva nodded her head in agreement, and Severus paused.

"Are you sure that you're ok?"

"Yes," she agreed. "I just need something to eat."

* * *

Bloody hell, after the party was over, Minerva McGonagall was going to hunt Filius down and kill the sneaky little bastard. 

_**Wouldn't feel a thing?**_

_**Right**_. When she had 'accidentally' bumped into Severus, and had grabbed his hand to 'steady' herself she had _**felt**_ him.

Not just physically, but emotionally, spirituality. The amount of emotions percolating in that boy was simply surprising, and far too much of it was directed toward _**her**_, involving her.

_**Desire**_

Oh Merlin, the boy _**wanted**_ her. Not just a little bit, but enough desire was burning in the boy's veins for him to take her to bed and keep her there for the next decade.

_**Desire**__**tainted with**__**Fear**_.

An almost paralyzing fear that she'd find out and ridicule him.

_**Loneliness, grief, an overwhelming feeling of regret.**_

Why was the boy screaming Filius' name over and over again? What the hell was that half man half eagle that Severus was fixating on? Bad enough he was thinking snakes, but the snakes were being vivisected by that weird eagle creature.

Merlin's bloody beard, what had Filius done? This wasn't just a tracer, it was a bloody _**bond**_!

She could sense the boy, feel his emotions and even sense his thoughts! Severus was walking back to her, his presence growing stronger as he got nearer, and so Minerva sat up in her chair, attempting to appear slightly sloppy, rather than still befuddled.

To her surprise, he touched her cheek, and she _**FELT**_ his desire. His need for her was hot as flames, running up and down her backbone, spreading out to her limbs, yet pooling in her middle.

"Are you sure that you're ok? You look rather flushed, and your skin is warm." His voice was his usual dispassionate tone, but bloody hell, Minerva could hear his hidden concern.

"Oh, I'm just fine, Severus," Minerva insisted.

He touched her on her shoulder, and she fought not to shiver.

It was so damn hard to think straight, as Severus' desire for her was beginning to get her very, very warm.

Merlin's beard, he wanted to do _**THAT**_ to her? In front of everyone?

Especially in front of _**ALBUS**_?!?!?

Bloody hell, Filius Flitwick was a dead man! Then after his murder was completed, Albus was next! Maybe she could blame their deaths on Qin-Cao Shī. Merlin knew that no one was ever sure what the witch would do next, and Minerva could always claim that one of her dragons had been real.

Severus' long fingers were holding an ice cube against her face, rubbing it carefully against her skin. The icy cold sensation contrasting with the warmth of Severus' desire for her was causing her to shiver.

"You're really quite warm, Minerva," he protested. "Are you sure that you're ok?"

He was keeping everything respectable, but Minerva got the faintest mental whiff of what Severus wanted to do with her with ice cubes. Now he was rubbing the ice cube against her neck, the cold trickles of water running down her neck… and she was thisclose to grabbing him and throwing him on the table.

_**Damn **_Filius! Just because he was planning on getting shagged by a former student didn't mean that she was… There were _**ethics, **_serious moral issues, involved with shagging students, whether she was their instructor in the future, present and past.

Oh dear God, Severus was not rubbing the back of her neck, was he?

No, it was just him putting a cool towel on the back of her neck.

There was the tinkling of a knife rapping against a glass. The noise distracted her sufficiently enough so that she was no longer affected quite so badly by Severus and his rather nimble fingers.

She closed her eyes, trying not to sense what Severus was thinking. Severus had sworn that he had kept his thoughts pure regarding her, yet his thoughts were most assuredly _**NOT.**_

"May I have your attention please?" Albus questioned.

"Now, as you remember, in our invitations, we specifically mentioned that you needed not to bring any gifts for Filius. Merely your presence would be the present and that we only requested that each group bring their most cherished memory of Filius to share with your fellow attendees."

Albus smiled, and Minerva felt Severus stiffen. Not _**that**_ way, but still the boy tensed.

"What? I don't remember _**that**_ on the invitations," Severus hissed.

"So in ten minutes, we will begin our tribute to Filius. I, for one, am quite excited about this," Albus commented.

There was such a buzz of conversation after Albus' announcement that Minerva looked for the invading horde of killer bees. No bees, just everyone appeared truly surprised by that tidbit, and Albus raised his hand for silence.

"Oh, I have been informed that it appears that our invitations did not include that tidbit," Albus shammed. "Therefore, I request your pardon, and I will delay the start time for our reminiscences for a total of thirty minutes so you can collect your thoughts."

The killer bees descended on Hogwarts right after Albus finished talking. The thirteen members of the Indian Cadre were having a rather intense conference, and from all accounts, they did not appear too chuffed with Albus. Well, you couldn't blame them, as most of their memories of Filius consisted of death and flames.

That would put a downer on the party.

"Ah, Minerva, I am most distressed to discover that you left that off the invitations," Albus stated calmly, his blue eyes not merely twinkling, but blazing with amusement. "But never fear, Minerva, I am sure Severus will do Hogwarts quite proud with his memories of Filius."

"WHAT?" Severus protested, loudly talking over Minerva's slightly quieter protestations that she had not been in charge of the invitations and that _**ALBUS**_ had dictated them. "You want _**me**_?"

Severus' emotions were bursting so close to the surface that Minerva raised her hands to her aching temples.

_**Fear, embarrassment, shame, horror…an overwhelming desire to kill Albus Dumbledore…. Panic that he'd embarrass Filius… his only bloody friend. Why him? WHY HIM? ALBUS! YOU ASK TOO MUCH!**_

"Stop protesting, Severus. It will mean far more to Filius that _**you**_ share your memories than if Minerva or I did. Because Filius understands how difficult this will be for you and I believe that you owe him," Albus stated, his blue eyes no longer blazing with good humored amusement, but were instead scorching with a fiery determination. "You will be the last one to speak, Severus. Do Hogwarts proud."


	18. Chapter 18

_**Disclaimer: **_Not Mine!  
_  
**Disclaimer #2 **_- This chapter ended up being split into two, as India was being India, alas, and rather long winded, so it will have its own chapter.

We last left Filius' party with Minerva hearing Severus in her head, Albus being whimsical (surprise!) and Dolores Umbridge stalking and scowling. Filius' rather colorful past is revealed.

* * *

Merlin's bloody scrote, Severus was screaming inside her head, as he wanted to throttle Albus Dumbledore with his bare hands due to his latest, greatest idea. The Slytherin's voice bounced around inside her head, all sharp and spiky, so Minerva couldn't help but quietly moaned as she rubbed her head. 

Both men looked at her, and Albus took charge.

"Minerva, you look peaked. Have you had too much festivity?" Albus questioned. "Perhaps, you should sit in the tent for a bit. Severus can handle any problems that might pop up."

Severus mentally grumbled and growled about Minerva scampering off _**Scot**_, deliberate accent on her heritage she noticed, _**Scot**_-free while he got stuck with the dirty work. Outwardly, he looked his usual dyspeptic self.

Aha! So that's why he was so concerned earlier.

Fortunately she hadn't been fooled into thinking that his concern was genuine. No, he was a true Slytherin to from the tip of his nose to the very tip of his toes, which meant that he was always looking out for himself. Ok, maybe in truth, she had been fooled into thinking the boy sounded concerned, but Minerva couldn't really be blamed. The boy's overwhelming desire to shag her had caused her normally sharp as a tack mind to meander off into the Adult Mages Only Section of Flourish & Blotts and stay there.

_**Oh Good God, Minnie! Just hire a room at The Three Broomsticks so you can shag the boy! Get it out of your system!**_

"I just need something to drink. Non-alcoholic," she quickly lied, before the two wizards would tell her that she couldn't have a real drink. "Then I'll be back to help handle this fiasco, as I'd hate for anyone to think I was shirking my duties."

"Who would dare to think that of you," Severus inserted dryly.

Sometimes the best response to Severus was not to respond at all. It was petty and immature, but it would steam him that his quips went unnoticed and uncommented.

_**And POINT to Minerva!**_

"Albus, perhaps this little idea of yours isn't... one of your better ideas?" Minerva hissed, while maintaining a perfect smile on her face. "To ask India to produce a memory on the spot? Perhaps you've put them in an uncomfortable position? They do not seem particularly enthralled with your idea."

The three of them glanced over to where most of India stood in huddled conference. With a quick gesture from Kritika, the crowd broke apart, leaving the senior most staff members of the school in the mist of a rather energetic conversation. Wands were being flourished and it sounded like the conversation was taking place in High Speed Hindi.

"We do not remember **_days_**, Minerva, we remember **_moments_**. Filius has pleasant memories of India, Minerva, and I'm quite sure that India has fond memories of him. They did, after all, send a great many mages. I believe there are eighty three Indian mages here..."

"Eighty**_four_**," Severus dryly inserted.

"Thank you, Severus. India sent eighty four mages. I'm sure that at least one of the mages has a pleasant memory that they're willing to share of Filius. Who knows…India might even have as many as… **_five_**."

His voice was full of whimsy, and Minerva was quite willing to choke him, but then the Head Master then turned serious. "But then again, their memories might not be particularly pleasant, but they will no doubt remind a certain purulent, pus producing pink parasite that Filius Flitwick is still a mage to which to be reckoned, and one to be treated with the utmost respect. If their memories do that, then _**so be it."**_

Minerva looked at the India group with an appraising eye. The India Headmistress glanced at Albus, saw that she had his attention and she did something remarkable. She gave Albus a wide-eyed look, and then tilted her head side-to-side. Albus nodded his head once in acknowledgement and Kritika turned away. The Indian witch clapped her hands together and four of the India mages followed her as she walked away, much like a mother hen followed by ducklings.

That was so odd that Minerva's mind had to ponder it for a bit. What did that head bob thing mean?

Wait…

That uniquely Indian gesture meant… _**YES…**_

"Bloody hell, you had this entire spur of the moment memory thing all planned out with her, didn't you?" Minerva snapped.

She turned around when she didn't hear Albus' response, and she realized that he had disappeared. Her audience consisted of just Severus, who was looking rather sour.

"Where did he go?" She questioned.

"Abeforth. Said he needed to speak to Albus to confirm the liquor order," Severus stated.

"Well, what fires do we need to put out?" Minerva crisply asked.

When there appeared to be nothing else burning... err… _pending_..._**pending**_... Minerva deliberately excused herself to locate Filius and the aforementioned drink. There was a certain diminutive Charms Instructor that she needed to grab by his ear and shake him all about the Quidditch Pitch, regardless of the thousands of horrified attendees' reaction. Severus watched her walk away, and she could feel his unease about Albus' latest stunt.

**_Damn it, couldn't Albus pick Rolanda? She's just so over the top obnoxious that every one would just laugh. NO! Albus had to choose me... the one most likely to cock it all up. What am I supposed to say? I'm no good with emotions! Why not blasted silver tongued Minerva? Everybody loves Minerva. She'd have them eating out her hand!_**

Minerva put her hand to her head. One problem at a time. She needed to find Filius first and then see what she could do about preventing Severus from cracking up.

* * *

Filius was busy chatting with Londisizwe Mandla Hlanganani, a Zulu warlock, about the intricacies of competitive racing zebras on the savannah when Minerva arrived. The Transfiguration Professor waited patiently, but finally had enough, and decided to interrupt. 

"I'm very sorry; I truly need to speak to you, Filius. May I have a moment of your time?" Minerva requested.

There was a brief spat of isiZulu between the two mages, and then Londisizwe sauntered away with an easy grace, leaving the two of them alone. Retaining her proper image, Minerva quickly looked around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping on this rather personal conversation.

"What's a matter, Min?" Filius questioned, his voice full of concern. "You look flushed."

"I did what you wanted, Filius Fineas Flitwick!" Minerva hissed. "You transferred that tracer a little too well, Filius."

"Calm down, Min, I can't rectify the situation if you don't tell me what's happening." Filius grabbed her hand, and squeezed. Then he swished and flicked two comfortable chairs into existence. "Let's sit down."

Minerva sat down, determined to keep her cool. She had a reputation to maintain. This was just a small problem, requiring a minor adjustment.

"He's in my head, Filius!" That quavering voice was not hers, was it? Oh Bloody Hell, it WAS!

"But that's how it is supposed to work, Min," he patiently explained. "You can sense when he is on campus and when he's not."

"No, I can hear him! I can sense what he's thinking, Filius!" She leaned over to his ear and whispered, "He wishes to shag me in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch, Filius! He wants to make love to me in the Great Hall for hours… while Albus watches! He swore to me that he kept his thoughts **_pure_** about me..."

Filius looked startled and then he started blushing.

"He probably did keep his thoughts pure, but then one morning, the boy woke up in bed, with his arms around the witch of his dreams. She told him that they had shagged the entire night, and so thoughts that he kept buried, have now bubbled to the surface."

"Filius... It's..."

Filius smiled, rested his head on his left hand, and he then began waving his wand in a small, anticlockwise pattern that was both elaborate and complex. Minerva watched him for a bit, and the witch shook her head when he stopped casting.

"Better?" He asked cautiously, his cheeks still quite ruddy.

She tilted her head, and realized that Severus' thoughts were nowhere in her mind. If she made an effort, she could sense Severus' general direction. Pouring all of her considerable mental energies into the tracer, she could feel his general unease about the speech and that was it. There were no random thoughts of naked tandem broom flying in the middle of the night. Not even a single thought about how much the boy wanted Albus to be the one jealous of Severus' obscene good fortune lurked to disturb the tranquility.

"YES!" She thankfully admitted, perhaps too loudly, as the two mages sitting in comfy chairs in the midst of a Quidditch Pitch received assorted strange looks from various passersbys.

"I'm so sorry, Min! I didn't think your relationship with him would affect the tracer." Filius grimaced and apologized once more.

"What relationship, Filius? There is no... **_relationship_**..." Minerva hissed.

"You know Severus quite fancies you, Minerva. Perhaps because you're such a kindhearted soul, you felt some… empathy… for the boy. It made the tracer react… differently…" Filius half-heartedly smiled.

"Filius…" Minerva protested. "You're compassionate… he's offered to…"

She paused, and then shook her head.

"Yes, the boy has offered to play Beater to my Chaser… on numerous occasions, but it's not because he's developed an irresistible sexual interest in my old carcass. It's a stomach-churning, terrible offer for him, because the boy wants to use his body to get back into my good graces. It's how his mother trained him, it's how his father used him. He's heterosexual, Min. He doesn't willing play both sides for Quidditch unless there's no other choice," Filius quietly stated.

They sat in silence for some minutes, intently watching the chaos around them.

A Zebra race had spontaneously started, which apparently involved elements of Quidditch, Steeplechase and a few other Muggle sports. Rolanda Hooch was busy racing one of the Zebras around the Quidditch Pitch, fortunately for one and for all, fully clothed, and one of the Zulu mages… Londisizwe? Yes, it looked like Londi was in the lead.

Yes, Londi was in first place, Rolanda was in second… and dear Merlin's tattered knickers, Septima Vector, grinning like a possessed soul, was in THIRD PLACE?

The World was coming to an end! Who would have thought that the girl could ride? She got broomsick watching Quidditch games!

"You could be so good for that boy, Min," Filius softly stated. "And he could be good for you, I believe."

"I can see myself teaching him some manners," Minerva said in a snippy tone. "But what could I get out of it? I don't need a new notch on my bedpost."

"A man's sincerest belief that his personal sun rises and sets upon you," he retorted.

Minerva couldn't help herself, she was flattered by _**that**_.

"You and I have gotten old, Min. Sometimes we need reminders from younger folks that we shouldn't be rocking by the fire, knitting away the remainder of our lives. There's still some considerable ginger left in you, Minnie."

"Filius, Severus is presenting your memory from Hogwarts," Minerva confessed, deliberately refusing to growl about the use of the dreaded name Minnie. "He's quite fearful that he'll cock it up."

"Severus? I'll be…" Filius laughed and shook his head in disbelief. "I'm really touched. I am, because I know how difficult it will be for him. Assure him, Min, if you would, that I'll be honored even if he says absolutely nothing. He's a good lad, with a tough road to walk. It's a damn shame I didn't do more for him when he was a student. That's one of my biggest regrets, Min."

Their conversation finished, they watched the Zebra race end, with Rolanda winning the event only through sheer brazen stupidity. The gleeful witch proceeded to hoot and holler for a bit, before deciding a victory snog was in order with a rather surprised Nigel. Then not to be outdone, Rolanda jumped over to snog Masood, who deciding that the respectability of India required many sacrifices, nearly caused Rolanda to black out from a lack of oxygen to her brain. As it was, the lucky b...err... witch was all weak and flustered when Masood finished.

**_Those lovely pieces of eye candy could have been MINE! ALL MINE!_**

"I can't believe that she decided to jump over the ice statue of Hogwarts," Minerva announced. "It's fortunate that the Teutonic group saw her coming and were able to scramble out of the way. Else it would have been quite messy."

"I love you, Min." Filius whispered. "You have no idea how much this party has cheered me. I was… a bit put out… Well more than a bit put out, because that pestilent, petulant piece of pink pus put me on probation because of who my ancestors were."

She reached for his hand and squeezed.

Maybe Albus' party proposal hadn't been such a bad idea after all. But like bloody hell would Minerva ever admit it.

* * *

Londisizwe Mandla Hlanganani, a Zulu witchdoctor was the first to present his memory. Filius had to translate for the crowd, but there was first a brief disagreement when Filius realized exactly what memory Londi had wanted to share. Filius turned an interesting shade of crimson and shook his head. 

"You can't share that one. There are ladies present!" He squeaked which earned appreciative laughter from the crowd. There were a few appreciative, rowdy comments from the large group of Unspeakables, most of them former Ravenclaw students who now worked in the Department of Mysteries, and who taken upon themselves to crash the party.

The two mages continued to barter about what memory Londi would share when at last they came to an agreement.

_A much younger Filius Flitwick was being thrown on the back of a Zebra, and he was instructed to hold on tight to the Zebra's bristly manes. Londisizwe Mandla Hlanganani, the Zulu iSangoma, then slapped the Zebra hard and the Zebra reared, pawing at the sky._

_"Sala kahle!" Londi yelled._

_Be well indeed! Bloody hell, bloody hell! Why did he agree to this? Because it seemed like such a grand idea at the time! Yes, ride a Zebra in a cross country race in the savannahs of Africa. But somehow Filius Flitwick never thought that he'd be thrown off the Zebra at the starting gate. The Zebra smartly decided that it much rather be on four legs rather than two, so it landed back to the earth with a loud thud that shook Filius' teeth and bones. Then the Zebra stallion noticed that it was in dead last place for the race, with everyone having long since left the corral, and the Zebra decided to run._

_Filius couldn't hope to physically control the beast, so the best thing to do was hang on. Jumping over trees, splashing through rivers, Filius managed to hang on even while he searched for the illusive golden ball. He called it a snitch, it wasn't, but it was close enough. Filius giddily laughed when he saw the first snitch and his Zebra managed to get them there before his opponent._

_The iSangoma growled at him, shaking his wand._

_Here came the moment of truth, would the Witch Doctor back down from the strange, child sized, white faced wizard from across the sea? Filius growled, showing his own teeth, and the Witch Doctor decided not to duel._

_"Ngiyabonga!" Filius shouted, as he should be polite. He was representing Hogwarts and Great Britain after all._

_Filius' thanks for letting him have the snitch apparently caused the Witch Doctor much confusion as the Zulu wizard was still staring in his direction even as Filius' Zebra raced away._

_And so Filius Flitwick won the race, as the other Witch Doctors were so scared to death of the grinning, yet extremely polite madman from Britain that they decided it best to quit the race in mass._

Every one applauded and laughed appreciatively when they realized that Filius had successfully scared the most powerful wizards in South Africa merely by being British and polite.

The next mage to approach the podium was Yuri Alekseev, the mad Bear Mage of Russia. Filius shook his head and mumbled comments that sounded like "Oh dear..." and "Could be rather embarrassing..." and Minerva quietly shushed him.

"Once upon a time, there was a drake. Not your average, run of the mill drake… but in fact…," Yuri then slowed, and presented the memory.

_"It's a mighty big drake, Yuri," Filius snapped._

_The mighty big drake that Filius Flitwick had so succinctly described was in fact, colossus. Over a Quidditch pitch length in size, the drake was busy tearing down trees and knocking over assorted stone buildings. To Filius' sharp eye, it looked like nothing more than a hyperactive two year old running amuck._

_"You're a keen observer of the obvious," Yuri Alekseev retorted. He was having a bad day, but that was still no excuse for the mage's terse tones. "Now that you've got that comment off your chest, would you mind cauterizing that wound that's causing me to bleed out?"_

_Slightly annoyed that his promising vacation to visit the archives of the Moscowy Wizardry Institute had instead been a ploy by Yuri Alekseev to get some much help with a rampaging drake, Filius didn't bother to make an effort to be gentle when he wielded his wand. Yuri's firebird familiar softly cooed to ease Yuri's pain, but still Yuri nearly chewed his lip to shreds to prevent his screaming from the pain. The bear mage still had plenty to say when Filius was finished._

_"Getting a bit hamfisted in our old age, Filius?" The bear mage growled, even as the drake decided to wipe out another dozen trees with a joyful swipe of its long tail. There was no need for the two mages to be quiet, as the drake was too busy smashing everything in sight._

_"You told me that you managed to finagle an invitation for me to visit the Moscowy Wizardry Institute archives. I've been trying to get into them for decades, Yuri! And when we get here, you tell me that's no invitation, but there's a drake with which you need help! I'm ready to Disapparate home! You lied to me!"_

_Yuri looked hurt and his big brown bear eyes filled with tears._

_"You wound me! You DO have an invitation to the archives. The only problem is that the drake is sitting on top of the entrance! You help me get rid of the drake and the archivist has promised that you'll have your very own keys to the archive!"_

_The drake then made a happy noise, as it decided it was time to move the river from its riverbed. There was a rumble of thunder, then a flash flood, and Yuri grabbed Filius by his bear teeth as the bear swam in the raging river. The bear was delicate, his teeth making only the smallest holes in Filius' formerly pristine, starched collar. The bear waded out of the river and gently placed a rather drenched Filius on the ground. The bear shook the water out of his coat, splattering Filius, and then shrugged back into his human form._

_"Oh good, he moved the river bed. I was wondering how we were going to excavate that," Yuri delightedly announced. "Though did you see the size of the fish in the river? If I hadn't been occupied keeping you alive, I could have had a very nice snack! I'm really rather hungry!"_

_"You've gone absolutely barmy! You've changed into a bear once too often. It's destroyed your mind!" Filius protested testily. To be honest, Filius was cold, drenched and shivering, and the not so aromatic smell of wet bear fur was beginning to get to his sensitive constitution._

_"Filius, that drake isn't just a drake. It's Koschei the Deathless. His soul is hidden separate from his body, inside a needle, which is in an egg, which is in a duck, which is in a hare, which is in an iron chest which was sunk in the river bed. By Koschei moving the river bed, we can now find the iron chest..."_

_"KOSCHEI THE DEATHLESS?" Filius hissed. Some quiet vacation this was turning out to be. "You have any more surprises for me?"_

_Yuri just smiled, and Filius glared. Then the two mages began a series of highly comedic misadventures regarding the finding of the iron chest... which revealed a large brown hare that ran away...which led to a duck… which laid the egg, until at last Yuri held the egg in one large paw. Filius then rode Yuri's bear form bareback and threw the egg at the Drake. It was a nice underhand throw and it went exactly where Filius wanted it to go._

_It splattered nicely against its forehead, and the Drake made a weird noise._

_"Ooompf."_

_Yes, the mighty Koschei the Deathless' last sound on Earth was an anticlimactic "Ooompf" right before he fell over quite dead._

"There was much rejoicing from the female Archivists and her all female staff as their archives had been saved from damage by the arrival of two handsome mages, one Russian, one Foreign, and they were quite willing to show their everlasting appreciation..." Yuri paused, looked at the crowd, and then quickly disclaimed that the Archivist's appreciation was an entirely new story which couldn't be repeated without verbal consent of the Archivist and her staff.

"Our Filius appears quite the rogue," Severus muttered.

Filius was _**quite**_ pink, Minerva delightedly noticed.

Other stories were not quite as risqué.

Qin-Cao Shī, much to Minerva's secret disappointment, shared a rather sedate memory of teaching Filius how to stitch a Chinese Fireball's wing. Well, yes, there was also a snippet of the rather appreciative Chinese Fireball taking Filius for a ride that consisted of the finest example of noncompulsory Dragon aerial aerobatics ever seen to humankind, but Filius' color turned distinctively green as he remembered the ride.

Tanaka Yukiro had a tad long winded memory, though it was apparently extremely funny to the Japanese speaking contingency about a geisha, a fan and a Gaikokujin mage.

The Colonists shared a memory of Talks-with-Wind and his psychedelic hallucinogenic tea. That story was highly amusing as the normally quite laconic Ebenezar McCoy had started raving during his vision quest, and among various topics on which he had chatted, the mage had instructed Martha to sell high, buy low. But it was eerie, with McCoy informing Filius to go to India to instruct.

The stories continued until at last it was India's turn to speak.

Four mages stepped forward. A Jain, a Hindu, a Muslim, and a Sikh.

Kritika made a quick gesture with her hands, and the mages positioned themselves in a rather intricate pattern.

"It's ceremonial magic," Filius quietly explained to Minerva and Severus. His voice was shaky. "Oh no. This is going to be... big."

"I share the memory of my father, Ibrahim Masood and my mother Noor Masood." Mohammed Masood crisply announced.

"May Allah be merciful to Ibrahim and Noor," Filius whispered. He put his steepled hands in front of his face, and sighed.

"I am Jaya Menaka Kaur, I offer the memory of Uttamjodh Singh, my instructor and mentor."

"Utta," echoed Filius. "Uttamjodh Singh, a true example of **_Jivan Mukat._** May your soul have been liberated and finally released from samsara."

"I am Zakiyah, I present the memory of Indira Gupta."

"Dear, sweet Indira," Filius whispered. His voice was growing shakier, and his composure was badly slipping. "You held everything together for all those long, lonely years."

"I give the memories of Abhinandananatha Jain, the Seer of India, to you, Master Flitwick-ji", Ravindra Jain said. "He was honored to call you friend."

Filius didn't speak, instead he just shook his head, overwhelmed by his memories. Minerva reached for Filius, squeezed his shoulder, and she saw that Severus also briefly touched Fltiwck on his other shoulder. Minerva and Severus shared a quick glance, both wondering why nobody but them thought this was a very bad idea.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
Disclaimer #2: Part of the story's formatting is off. I was trying something different - to try and create the feeling of chaotic thought. May not have worked as the formatting didn't stay.  
Disclaimer #3: This is mainly a Filius chapter. India trauma is revealed.

* * *

Filius didn't speak; instead he just shook his head, overwhelmed by his memories. Minerva reached for Filius, squeezed his shoulder, and she saw that Severus also briefly touched Flitwck on his other shoulder. Minerva and Severus shared a quick glance, both wondering why nobody but them thought this was a very bad idea. 

"Friends, colleagues, former students and other honored guests," Kritika stated in ringing tones. "I present to you to why India holds Filius Flitwick in such high esteem. Truly, we are all indeed blessed to know him. He is not merely a defender of the school of India, he is truly a savior of souls."

With a quick snap of her wand that was echoed by the other mages, Kritika cast the first memory.

"_So you're telling me that the portkey to India is always late?" Filius Flitwick questioned even as he pushed his glasses back. He was middle aged, complete with a shock of black hair with a neat beard to match._

_"Aye. Weirdest thing, you know. It is only this particular portkey that's consistently late. You'd think that since the India School specifically commissioned the portkey, they'd have everything working on that end. They never do, and it's always several hours late," the portkey conductor announced with some disgust, as he was a wizard that took pride in running an orderly portkey station. "I've had a couple mages decide not to bother waiting. They just leave!"_

_"That's rude," Filius whispered. "If you're willing to leave because your ride is late, are you really that interested in the position?"_

_Rowena mournfully rattled the door to her traveling cage. Everything else had been Miniaturized and placed in Filius' pocket, but he couldn't do that to Rowena. The Eagle chirped sadly, and he placed one finger into the cage to rub her face. She took the comfort that he offered and then hopefully chirped again._

_"I'll let you out as soon as we get there, Rowena." Filius promised._

_"I wouldn't bother," the conductor inserted. "I've seen easily a dozen or so like you take this particular portkey, and most of the time, they're back within the hour, complaining about this and that. I think one lasted a whole two hours before she came back. For such a pretty witch, she swore like a Harpy! I don't understand why you want to go all the way to India. Isn't there enough excitement for you here?"_

_Flitwick didn't say anything, because he had found over the years that few shared his thirst for knowledge. Yes, one could stay safe and secure in Great Britain, but you'd never get the flash of dizzying comprehension when you looked at a situation and saw it through another culture's eyes. Truthfully, the thought of a sabbatical in India had never crossed his mind, until that one night in the Colonies when Ebenezar McCoy had partaken part of the vision quest and insistently told him that he must go to India to teach._

_India._

_**INDIA. **_

_It had taken years, but it seemed Ebenezar's advice had taken hold of his soul._

_Halfheartedly, he had begun reading on Eastern Magic and he had found that India had obscure branches of magic found nowhere else in the world. Elemental MAGES, for one! Mages that could wandlessly control the elements of fire, wind, water, and earth. Fascinating! It became an obsession, foremost among his countless other intellectual interests, as he began focusing more and more on the various intricacies of Indian magic. And so, when he saw the small advertisement in one of the educational periodicals offering a visiting professor's position at the Indian School of Magic, he had eagerly applied._

_After all, he hadn't left Hogwarts in over a decade. It was time for a sabbatical and he truly desired a break from Headmaster Phineas Black. Such a cantankerous soul. It had been an ill day that had found that Slytherin in charge of the school._

_That was why he was standing in the portkey station, waiting for the chronically late portkey. It wasn't rather reassuring to find out that countless others had gone before him, and apparently had rather quickly returned._

_There was a clattering noise as the tin can of tea that was the portkey to India began jumping about, urgently demanding his attention and the Conductor perked up. "It's working! Just grab the portkey and away you go!"_

_Filius grabbed Rowena's cage and reached for the portkey. Within seconds, he was gone._

_"He'll be back," the Conductor woefully announced. "They always are. Nobody ever lasts in India."_

_Unnoticed by the Conductor, the red and green Phoenix that was lurking in the shadows of the ceiling of the portkey station also popped away. It was now time for Ibrahim Masood to return home and report on what he had observed._

* * *

_Flitwick found himself in a large, hot room that was dimly lit. A wobbling ceiling fan nobly attempted to provide a cooling breeze in the room but did nothing more than stir up a feeble warm breeze. There was no one at the ticket counter, but there was an elephant. A large, very wrinkled elephant with a broken right tusk that was sleeping in the waiting area, and nestled between his forelegs was a Sikh._

_Yes, it was a Sikh, as he wore a crimson turban and had a long, neat black beard. He wore the Kara, a steel bracelet on the right wrist and Filius saw that the Sikh had the Kirpan, his symbolic dagger, nestled under one arm. The Sikh also had a small sign propped on the elephant's left leg. "FILIUS FLITWICK" was written on it in flowing script._

_"So, you're my ride. It's three in the morning your time, so it would be quite rude to wake you. Plus, I was told that there'd be a Jain with you, and they don't travel at night."_

_It was hot and sticky, and a fly landed on his neck. He about to slap the fly to kill it, when Filius stopped._

_"__**Jains**__, Filius, you need to respect the traditions. They'll be quite vexed if you squash it." Filius softly sighed, made a slight gesture and the fly was displaced elsewhere._

_Onto the elephant._

_That would never do, as the elephant might disturb the sleeping Sikh, so he gestured once more and the anti-bug ward encompassed the room._

_He was walking toward Rowena when he felt something touch him. He turned around, and the elephant's trunk began exploring his face. It was gentle, but the questing trunk was still a rather surreal encounter. But this was part of the Indian experience, so Filius let the elephant continued to investigate, though he hissed when the elephant decided to explore his glasses._

_"They are not edible! Don't even try it," Filius quietly warned._

_The elephant warned away from his glasses, it still insisted on snuffling Filius' hair. That done, the pachyderm put his trunk into his mouth and sucked on it, looking as though he was contemplating the taste of Filius. Filius patted his hair down, and the elephant just watched him with dark, amused eyes._

_"I hope you don't think I'm tasty," Filius admitted. "Shhh… don't wake your friend. I'll grab a nap."_

_The elephant settled back down to sleep, and Rowena chirped a question._

_"Yes, I'll see about getting you out of the cage as soon as the Sikh wakes up, my pretty," Filius promised. "I can't let you loose in the station. They'll be vexed with me, and we do want to make a good impression on our new host for the next year."_

_Rowena plainly didn't like that idea, but settled down. Filius took off his traveling cloak, bunched it up into a pillow and plopped himself into one of the couches._

_"One good thing about being a short man in a tall world, Rowena. You can nap just about anywhere."_

_He was curling into a ball when he felt something scamper on top of him. Only through sheer force of will was he able to refrain from instinctively throwing whatever it was, off him._

_"Oh, bloody hell," he cursed. "I hope that's not a rat. This adventure is not starting off well."_

_Filius opened his eyes to find himself face to face with quite possibly the smallest cat he had ever seen in his life. It had gray fur with rusty spots all over the back and the flanks, while its underbelly was white with large dark spots. Its tail was almost as long as its body and it was giving him a quizzical stare._

_"Hello." Filius softly greeted, keeping his voice low so not to wake the Sikh._

_Carefully, he picked up the cat, and placed it on the ground. It hissed, and then limped back over to where he was sitting. It then sat in front of him and gave him a long, soulful stare. The two of them stared at each for a bit, and then the cat pulled herself together and jumped into the seat next to Filius. Daintily, she sniffed at him, decided he was acceptable, and then began rummaging through his cloak._

_"I don't have any cat treats," he warned her. _

_That declaration seemed to make the cat unhappy, and she regally decided then to make herself at home in Filius' cloak. The feline curled into a little ball, and began energetically purring._

_"You're getting cat hair on my cloak!" Filius softly protested, channeling his annoyance into mentally creating a cat hair removal spell for the morning. He'd hate to look shabby and fur covered when he met the India faculty. Rumors had the India staff as… eccentric._

_Rowena chirped, and Filius noticed that her water bowl had been knocked over during their travels. He could have sworn that it was full when they arrived at the station. But never mind, it was empty and he quickly cast a water spell. Rowena began to drink._

_Rowena drinking water earned the cat's attention as she began wiggling and meowing loudly._

_"Shh! You'll wake the elephant," Filius warned her. "Here… I'll get you some water."_

_With a quick gesture, he created a bowl, and filled it with water. The cat jumped to the floor with a thud that sounded painful with her limp, and Filius quickly deshedded and car hair repelled his cloak with another gesture. He was about to snuggle back into his cloak when he decided that he better check on the elephant._

_The elephant was awake, and its questing trunk was slowly… slowly… stretching toward the cat's bowl. The cat hissed at it, even while it delicately lapped at the cool water._

_With a quick gesture, Filius swished and flicked a large elephant sized container of water into creation. The delighted elephant began slurping down a huge amount of water with a great deal of enthusiastic gusto, and Filius wondered why the Sikh hadn't so much as moved, considering the elephant was now dripping copious amounts of water on him._

_Something was odd._

_This entire scene was distinctly peculiar... in fact; he got the unhappy impression that he was being set up. Filius quietly walked closer to the Sikh, closely peered at him, and yes, almost hidden beneath his beard, the 'sleeping' Sikh was in fact grinning. The Sikh opened his eyes, and quickly gestured with his hands._

_"Jo Bole So Niha!" He greeted Filius loudly._

_Deciding that the Sikh had decided that the Western mage wouldn't know how to answer the ceremonial greeting, Filius quickly responded._

_"Sat ri akal!"_

_The Sikh laughed in surprised delight._

_"Truly we have are blessed with your presence for you know the Jaikara! Thank you for watering my elephant, Filius Flitwick. I am Uttamjodh Singh. My position at the school is similar to your instructor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I know that our names are rough on the British tongues, so please, call me Utta."_

_The elephant made a snorting noise as he drank his water, and the Sikh hissed in annoyance as the elephant was dripping on him. "Trilochan. Must you insist on getting me wet? Perhaps I should pour water on you? See if you enjoy it?"_

_"I'm sorry that I'm late, there was a problem with the portkey," Filius quickly explained._

_Uttamjodh gestured, and Filius took it to mean that the delay was of no matter. "Do not worry. Many have told me that India Time is a time unlike any others in the known world. What happens in India happens. It does not matter when it does, just that it does. Though I hope you do not mind, but we will not travel to the school tonight. My good friend, Trilochan, is quite thoroughly afraid of the dark."_

_Filius tried not to smile, but the elephant appeared quite disgruntled._

_"I have sent a message to the school that you have arrived, and they will be prepared for whenever we decide to arrive. Ah, the messenger bird is back. Let us see if they have a message."_

_A bright red and green Indian Phoenix landed on the elephant's trunk, and the elephant carefully lowered its trunk with the bird riding it until it was by Uttamjodh's face. The Sikh made a chirping noise, and the Phoenix extended its leg. The message delivered, the bird then decided it was time to rest. It made its way back to the elephant's head, stuck his head under his right wing, and went to sleep._

_"They expect us when they expect us." Singh explained after reading the note._

_"Marvelous bird, highly unusual coloring, as the only Phoenix I've ever seen is scarlet and gold," Filius commented. "Is he your familiar?"_

_"No… do you wish to have a phoenix as your familiar, Filius?" The Sikh intently questioned._

_Filius shook his head, and laughed. "I have the eagle over there. One is __**enough**__ for me. Can I let her loose? Will it bother the Phoenix?"_

_"He'll behave, as he's been well taught. Forgive me for not standing, but my bones are old."_

_"Forgive me for asking, but I thought I was meeting Abhinandananatha Jain at the station." Filius was damn proud that he managed to spit that name out in one breath. It had taken two days of intense practicing before he was able to say it quickly and comfortably._

_"Abhinandananatha… that is a long story, which I must explain to you later, I'm afraid."_

_The two mages then chatted for the remainder of the night, until the first light of dawn appeared. Then Singh jumped up from the floor, belying his self-deprecating comments about his ancient bones, appearing no worse for wear, and he tapped the sleeping elephant on its forehead._

_"Come now, Trilochan! It's light out! The sun has risen once more! You need not to be afraid to travel any longer!" Utta energetically exclaimed. _

_The elephant took its own sweet time getting up, moaning and groaning so much like an old man getting out of bed in the morning that Filius began to worry about his ride._

_"Pay him no consequence," the Indian mage quickly assured Filius. "He grumbles all the time. He is exceedingly old for an elephant."_

_Filius wisely kept his mouth shut, refraining from commenting on the dubious honor of having the oldest elephant in the herd as his mount._

_"We will eat when we are at the school. I hope you do not mind. Now let us get ready to travel."_

_The elephant was easy to mount, and Filius made sure to apologize for the hard soles of his boots, as he noticed Singh was wearing slippers. Rowena was allowed to fly free, and then Singh looked at the cat. The cat blinked at him, and then began daintily licking one paw._

_"Is this your cat, Filius?" His tone sounded dubious._

_"No. Is it the station's cat?" Filius questioned._

_"No, it is feral. It is a Rusty Spotted Cat, native to our land. There are probably thousands of similar cats out there." His voice dismissed the cat of being no importance._

_The cat hissed at Singh, and the Sikh shook his head._

_"It limps," Filius softly stated._

_"That it does, Filius. That it does." Utta was staring at him with his glittering black eyes._

_"Would it be a problem if I took it to the school? I'd hate to leave it here, alone."_

_"It is a very dangerous cat with razor teeth and sharp claws. Are you sure you wish to risk your life and limb with this very feral cat? It probably has... __**fleas**__..." The Sikh's voice dripped with his distress over that thought._

_"It weighs all of a kilogram, Utta. It's injured and it will be easy prey. If it will come without biting you, I'll take it with me to the school. Wrap it up in my cloak, and hand it to me, if you don't mind. I'll make sure that it's free from fleas."_

_There was hissing and squawking from both the man and the cat, but soon the freshly flea free cat was in Filius' arms. She promptly began to purr loudly. It was a reassuring sound, and Filius grinned as he scratched her behind her ears. He was a softie for those creatures smaller than himself._

_"So, tell me Filius, do you have any children?"_

_The elephant's ears perked up, and Filius swore that even the resting Phoenix was listening to his answer._

_"My children numbers in the thousands," he easily answered. It was his rote answer to that all too personal question. He was far too footloose to ever settle down._

_"Thousands! You are indeed__**prolific**__, Master Flitwick!" Singh exclaimed in surprise._

_"I have had thousands of students at Hogwarts, Utta. They are my children. If they succeed or if they fail in their life, it is due to me and my influence on them."_

_Damn him for a fool, but he thought Singh was once again hiding a smile beneath his long beard. Odd, most claimed that Indians had no sense of humor, but the Sikh appeared to be the exception to the rule._

_"Do you believe that you may have… Indian children in your future?" The Sikh softly questioned._

_"If we ever get to the school, I believe I shall," he retorted. "But at the moment, it appears I never will."_

"_At last! We have a Western instructor who understands the Eastern mindset! I am exceedingly delighted to make your acquaintance, and I will be honored to call you my friend."_

* * *

_After a far too short ride that Filius believed to have been shortened by copious use of magic, he was greeted by the Head Mistress of the school, Shalini Kumari Chauhan. She was Hindi, and wore an elaborate sari. She gave him a very long, appraising look and then shook her head._

_"So, you didn't kill the fly, you watered the elephant and you didn't kick the cat," she said shortly. "You also didn't covet the Phoenix as a familiar. I must confess though, I have no idea what Uttamjodh's test was. Truthfully, we've actually never had a possible instructor get that far. I must further shame myself by admitting that I didn't ask the staff to prepare quarters for you, as I doubted you'd actually arrive and wish to stay. Many have arrived at the portkey station, and none have actually stayed."_

_"He actually scratched the cat," said a female voice. "He didn't kick it, and he didn't call it flea-ridden, nor did he loudly complain that the cat decided to sleep in his cloak. Bonus points were awarded for bringing the limping cat to the school because Master Flitwick didn't want her to get eaten by a predator."_

_Figuring that this was yet another test, Filius didn't turn around to see who was speaking. Obviously someone had been at the station, clandestinely watching him._

_"Bonus points?" Shalini questioned, her voice dripping in surprise. "Since when do you give out bonus points, Indira? Your students would collapse in a collective heap of stunned disbelief."_

_"He scratched me behind my ears. Gentle hands get bonus points as that means he's got a delicate touch on his wand. Yes, he teaches Charms at Hogwarts, but I predict that he can deftly Transfigure with the best of them."_

_Merlin's bloody scrote! She was the __**cat**__? Did that mean the elephant..._

_"He didn't complain about the heat," said a deep male voice. "He apologized to the elephant for wearing hard soles, and he did cast a fly repellant spell that included the elephant. Very considerate if you ask me. He also didn't get hysterical when the elephant decided to investigate; instead he calmly requested that I leave his glasses alone. That one witch swatted me!"_

_THE __**ELEPHANT **__was a __**WIZARD,**__ Filius winced._

_"No bonus points?" Shalini dryly questioned. She recrossed her arms, and pointedly stared at the wizards standing behind Filius._

_"I'll give him ten points. I'm feeling rather generous tonight," the voice of the elephant dryly decided. "He gave me cool water to drink and Master Flitwick was far easier to carry then Utta."_

_The Sikh made a rude noise._

_"You know that I'm exceedingly old for an elephant. Perhaps Shalini should give me a lighter rider. You're solid, Utta. Like stone. I don't necessarily mean that in a good way, old friend, especially since my antiquated bones had to carry your massive frame all the way home."_

_The cat witch made a choking noise as thought she was trying not to laugh."He admired the Phoenix, but was quite content with his eagle." That tenor voice sounded younger. "No effort was made to entrap, entice or bespell me. Thank goodness, I get so tired of being chased all over the station by enthralled mages who wouldn't have the first idea on how to handle a Phoenix. That's why Noor refuses to do these inspections, as that one mage grabbed her by her tail feather. Good thing I wasn't there, I would have sent him back to Britain without a portkey."_

_"I kicked him through the portkey before he knew what happened to him. I will not let anyone manhandle Noor," Utta promised, his voice quite stern._

_Filius decided to admit defeat and turned around and to see the three people that weren't there before. The elephant, the Phoenix and the cat were gone._

_Instead there were two men, one quite old and one much younger, and a female of indeterminate age that were standing next to Utta, who naturally, appeared quite amused. _

_The small, slight female, though still taller than Filius, was a Hindu and the young man was Muslim. The older man was a Jain, wrapped in a white sheet, and he wore a white cloth_ _over his mouth. Filius knew that the white cloth was a way of preventing the Jain from swallowing small insects accidentally. Jains focused on non-violence, not just on avoiding acts of violence, but also avoiding sins of omissions that might indirectly lead to harm, and Filius could not possibly imagine living like that. The Jain was quite tall, and sparse in his build, but he appeared to be smiling._

_Utta had changed, his posture now akin to a dangerous, graceful leopard. Loose, but ready to pounce, and Filius noticed that the mage wore two wands, holstered in such a way to be quickly available for use._

_The Phoenix mage stood behind the other three mages. He was of medium height, but he carried himself as though he was as tall as the Jain. Ramrod straight posture, jet-black hair and his arms were crossed. He appeared... diffident... as though he was unsure of his position with such august mages. Alone of all the mages, he did not smile, instead, he stared intently at Filius, his dark eyes weighing and measuring the English mage._

_"Animagus?" Filius softly questioned, thought it was obvious._

_Uttamjodh Singh apologetically gestured with his hands. "The Eastern viewpoint is so different from your Westernized culture. We have had several possible instructors that were completely unsuitable, so the five of us have developed a way to quickly test for suitability. For example, you didn't insist on waking me when you arrived and you were content to wait until I woke. You apologized for being late, though it was no fault of yours, but in fact, completely our fault. You also knew that the Jains do not travel at night, so you've made an effort to be familiar with our culture."_

_"No one else has made the effort to understand us and our culture," the Phoenix mage inserted. "They believe that since we're part of the Empire, we should act accordingly. This school has been in existence for over two thousand years, good Master Flitwick. Obviously, we must have done something right in that time if it's still standing."_

_"And?" Shalini questioned. "And what about __**my**__ question? You did ask it, didn't you? Or did you embrace him as a long lost brother and offer to find him a wife? He's long past marrying age. Best not let Ishani near him, else he'll be betrothed before he even has a chance to escape back to Hogwarts."_

_Filius blushed, and Masood shook his head, obvious in his disapproval in Shalini's flippant attitude._

_"He says his children __**are**__ his students, and that he was willing to have Indian children as long as I stopped chatting and got him to the school."_ _Utta stated that with conviction, and Shalini smiled._

_The Indian Head Mistress quickly saluted Filius._

_"Namasté, Filius Flitwick. Welcome to India. The Phoenix who is so disapproving of my flippancy, is Ibrahim Masood, Fire Mage and Director of the Elemental Mage Department. You've met Uttamjodh Singh. Indira Gupta, who is charge of our Transfiguration and Animagi Departments was the cat, and the elephant, was Abhinandananatha Jain, the Seer of India, better known to all as Trilochan. He's the head of the various Divination departments. For the moment, you will be staying with Ibrahim and his wife, Noor. Your quarters will be ready later this afternoon, Filius."_

_"Come, Filius, I will show you to my quarters. You can bathe and rest," Ibrahim offered. He was the youngest of all that were in the room, barely in his early forties, Filius estimated. "I am honored to share my quarters with you."_

_The Fire Mage quirked a quick smile, and then quickly led Filius to his quarters._

* * *

___Next morning, Abhinandananatha Jain, who seemed a rather old soul, escorted him through the school. He was far older than Filius was, and he was the picture of calmness and serenity, though he did have a quirky sense of humor._

___"I understand that you are quite the duelist, Filius. Utta needs a sparring partner." He paused, deliberately placing his hand in front of Filius in order to stop his forward motion. The Jain didn't touch Filius, but instead held out his arm a few feet away from the mage. "Wait!"_

___The Jain reached for something on the ground, and picked it up. He protected it with cupped hands._

___"Come along now," he whispered, as he placed whatever it was on the windowsill. "On the ground, you'll just get squashed. It's much safer up here for you. Now, where was I?"_

___"You have just informed me that I'm dueling with Utta," Filius reminded him. "I have to admit that I'm a little surprised the Head of the Divination Department who is a JAIN is telling me that I'm dueling with Utta. I thought Jains believed in non violence."_

___"Ah, yes. I do believe in non-violence. But well, you see…you're technically in my department. You're one of my instructors, so I give you your teaching assignments. You don't have a full set of classes to teach just yet, so I'm lending you out to the other departments as I deem necessary.""I'm in the __**Divination Department**__?" Filius squeaked. That was certainly news to him. "I also don't have a full teaching assignment? Why did you offer a position for a Western Mage if I'm not teaching."_

___"I detect __**disapproval**__," the Jain answered calmly, though his dark brown eyes appeared quietly amused. "I thought you came to India to __**learn**__, Filius. Was I mistaken?"_

___"No, but __**divination**__? I don't have the knack for that subject."_

___Best left unsaid that was Filius thought divination and all its various components was a lot of hocus pocus, mumble jumble and goobly gook. Give him a wand, and he'd flick it, give him a set of sheep entrails to examine, and Filius would say that it looked like a lot of messy intestines._

___"Well, don't worry, I won't ask you to read my tea leaves," Trilochan assured him. "You're mainly here to help Utta with teaching our students to duel. Plus our students have a distressing lack of comprehension of non-Eastern magic. Many of us are rather parochial, and have decided not to recognize the opportunity to study under your tutelage. I put you under my department, as I'm well known for doing strange things, plus I had a budget surplus to pay your salary. My department mainly consists of Jains, and we are content with very little. If Utta was your department head, people would comment. If you worked for Ibrahim, people would definitely intervene. He's a nice boy, Filius, but since he's an Elemental Mage, most are frightened of him. Putting you two together would be __**scandalous**__!"_

___"He seemed quite pleasant," Filius protested. "Noor was quite hospitable."_

___Yes, the boy had unloosened considerably in his quarters, smiling and laughing during their meal and Noor had been delighted that Shalini had asked them to host Filius. She thought it was an extremely high honor that spoke well of Shalini's faith in her husband._

___"It's regarding fire, Filius. It's rare to have an Elemental mage, and to have our two Fire Mages marry, and produce a fine son that's also a Fire Mage? People are worried. We've got more potential Elemental mages among the students then we've had in the last five hundred years, Filius. We had thought that they had died out, because we haven't had an Elemental mage in over a hundred years. Then! Boom! The spark reappeared when young Ibrahim was dumped on our doorstep. His family was frightened of him, claimed he was ill-omened and washed their hands of him."_

___"If there were no Elemental mages, how did you train the boy?" Filius questioned. "I'm assuming that he is trained. He did not spontaneously combust last night."_

___"Utta stepped forward to be his main instructor, Indira and I also volunteered to assist in his other subjects. No one else was brave enough as they were quite afraid that they'd go up in flames. Terrible, terrible attitude. To be afraid of a student? Makes me ashamed to be an instructor with attitudes like that."_

___"I agree," Filius answered. "We're supposed to teach, not run away in fear because he has an unique gift."_

___"Well, in their defense, Fire Mages are very ... spirited... during their training. Before we realized what he was, Ibrahim nearly burnt down two of the greenhouses."_

___"Oh," was all Filius said, because as a Charms Instructor, he had never had to deal with an inferno. Being flung across the room, yes, on a daily basis, but never a full blown inferno._

___"It __**happens**__, Filius. It's not something he does __**now**__," the Jain protested. "But he frightened a great many of the instructors as he was lost in the rapture of the Burn. He has described the Burn as... ecstasy. I shocked him out of it by creating a deluge that flooded most of the remaining greenhouses, so between the two of us, we made a right mess of things. The Herbology department was so vexed with me! To this day, they consider me a destructive force of nature!"_

___The Jain laughed easily._

___"But many of the instructors fear Ibrahim and I'm afraid that his teaching style is rather brutal, as his main instructor was Utta._ _Fortunately, the three of us managed much better when Noor arrived. No uncontrollable fires with our dear sweet Noor, and Indira was her main instructor."_

___Trilochan was weighing his reaction, and Filius knew that he was expected to respond either favorably or not on young Ibrahim Masood._

___"I'm not afraid of him. He seems... a very decent chap," Filius responded. "He warmly welcomed me into his quarters. He and his wife are uniquely talented, nothing more, nothing less."_

___An inner tension in Trilochan seemed to ease when Filius answered._

___"Perhaps, you might be willing to mentor the lad?" Trilochan questioned. "Ibrahim needs to talk to more than Utta, Indira and myself, and he's so self-effacing that there are times that I quite forget that he's in the room. The Fire that burns in Ibrahim Masood is sacred, Filius, and he needs to embrace his full potential. The boy should not be limited by other people's fear, for it will hamper his soul's development."_

___The Jain began walking again, but slowly, so Filius could keep pace._

___"I worry," the Jain slowly explained. "Trilochan means Third Eye. Some have given me that name because of my talent. I must be honest with you. Perhaps… perhaps, you should return to Great Britain, Filius. May I Scrive you?"_

___Filius nodded his head once._

___"I won't rummage through your mind, Filius. I just wish to know the type of man you truly are."_

___The elderly Jain stopped and peered into Filius' eyes. The Seer's eyes were dark and weighing as he Scrived Filius. He then nodded his head once as though he approved of what he saw, and then Trilochan squared his shoulders._

___"Return to your Hogwarts, Filius Flitwick. The storm is coming, the winds are beginning to quicken, and I fear that the very foundations of this school will be rocked." The Seer's voice was full of potential, and Filius could literally Feel the Seer's Proclamation._

___Filius shook his head. The Indian Instructors were probably the most welcoming, yet standoffish group of mages he had ever met. Warmly welcomed into the personal quarters of the Masoods without a qualm, asked to consider mentoring the young Ibrahim, and yet now he was being told to pack up everything and leave. What a maddening and absolutely contrary bunch!_

___"You've had at least fifteen instructors apply for this particular position, Trilochan," he protested. He successfully kept his ire from his tone._

___"Thirty seven," the Seer smoothly admitted. "Some applicants I just needed to touch their missives, and know that they would not be suitable."_

___"I'm the first one to actually make it to India. Now, you're telling me to go home. Why did you go to all this effort to bring a Western Mage here if you think I should return back to Hogwarts?" Filius flushed, as he could hear his annoyance in his tone._

___Damn it, he was trying to keep his calm, but damn it, he hated being jerked around._

___"I do not desire that you should return to Hogwarts, Filius Flitwick. If I was not who I am, if I did not hold beliefs so sacred that I would never dare to break them, I would bond you so tightly to this school you would never be able to leave. I am offering you a chance to __**escape**__," Trilochan explained in the voice of a Seer. "Go NOW, Filius. Pack your things and leave. There will be no shame involved as I will tell Shalini that I dismissed you. As a Jain, I swear to do no harm. If you stay here, you may come to harm, physical, emotional and spiritual, and that karma will be on my eternal soul for I brought you here."_

___The Jain looked quite serious, and Filius stared at the Seer in absolute befuddlement._

___"I'm sorry, I don't particularly believe in divination. Most prophecies are so cryptic that they can go either way," Filius retorted. "You're the first Seer that I've met that wasn't drunk on cooking sherry. I'm staying. You're offered to teach me Eastern magic, and that's not something I can learn at Hogwarts."_

___Trilochan relaxed, and smiled._

___"I needed to ask you. I've been seeing this particular event for so long that I'm seeing permutations upon permutations upon permutations. I knew you'd come, but I had no idea if you'd actually stay and teach your children in India."_

___"So you saw me here?" Filius questioned. "That's... interesting... as a friend of mine on a vision quest told me to come to India to teach."_

___The Jain hissed, and made a strange warding gesture._

___"Yes, I did…" The Jain softly admitted. "Though was more an aura… then a physical manifestation. That's why we chose the tests we did. Anyone might come, but would our Syena? Would Garuda actually walk in the halls of our school? But you were told to come to India? Is this friend of yours by chance a Seer?"_

___Garuda? The half man half eagle? Syena was a mythological eagle, Filius knew. _

_"__No, Ebenezar is a fighting mage, much like Utta. He is not a seer. But Garuda? Ah! Rowena," Filius realized._

___"Yes, the eagle reference was a bit obvious. You know, as a Seer, I really shouldn't have the fates spell everything out for me. Makes me look… incompetent. It's like they don't have faith in me! Oh no, our poor Trilochan is getting old, he's getting senile. He won't notice the prophecy so let's drop a big boulder on his head!"_

___The elderly Jain smiled, and motioned for Filius to continue walking._

___"What did you see in reference to me, Trilochan?" Filius questioned, not moving until he got a decent answer._

___"I Saw Indra, the Hindu Warrior God... and his hands were full of lightning and fire, so bright that it nearly blinded my inner eye. I sensed... that Garuda was a Western trained Mage who had... trained... Indra... for he moved in his warrior dance so unlike the Utta I know. It was him, but he had been trained and molded… purified so his very essence was like fire? I can not say more, Filius, for interfering too much in prophecies causes pardoxes." The Jain smiled brightly. "Besides giving me a horrible headache. But know this, I have been searching for you for many years, Filius."_

___"Yet, you told me to go home," Filius reminded the Seer._

___"I had to offer, and you had to make the decision to stay. It's very important that you stay here willingly, Filius. To keep an eagle unwillingly caged is unspeakable cruelty."_

___"And if I had decided to run for the hills? Did you see what would happen?" Filius questioned._

___"Indra will fight bravely, but he will be overwhelmed by evil creatures... and fall." The Jain admitted it easily. "It is an ill omen, but it may not come true. You may not be our Garuda. It's too obvious, and many other parts of the Prophecy have not come to pass yet. I pray that we have time, and that you will be long back in the safety of your Hogwarts before it happens. But there are such shadows on my Sight these days, as though some Evil is attempting to Blind and Deceive me."_

___The Jain began walking again, and Filius followed._

___"Come now, you will see our Indra in action. Utta is our resident Saint-Soldier of the Sikh faith, defender of the weak from tyranny and slavery, protector of the universal right of all beings to live their lives in peace, no matter what their religion, their caste and their beliefs. The principle of ahimsa is to actively prevent violence, not to simply stand by idly whilst violence is being done. Do you comprehend the difference, Filius? You've made an effort to understand our culture, but do you truly understand ahimsa?"_

___Flitwick paused, truly weighed and pondered the question, and then nodded his head._

___"Yes, I understand."_

___"Very well." The Jain paused, and then continued in a very quiet voice, as though he wanted to ensure that only Filius heard his next statement. "Remember this, when all seems lost, Filius Flitwick, look to the skies."_

___Cryptic seers made his head hurt, Filius decided. Even if they weren't drunk on cooking sherry._

* * *

___Uttamjodh Singh was a rather unique duelist, Filius had to admit. He used two wands, one in each hand, which Filius had never seen in action. He calmly and systemically went through an entire line of students, sparring, while having a running commentary on what the students were doing wrong, correcting them and then heading onto the next student._

___"You are just so dead, that even your reincarnated great-great-great-great grandchildren are dead," he told one hapless student. "Again."_

___"That's a distinctive style," Filius confessed, as he watched Utta utilized both wands simultaneously._

___"Gatka," Trilochan explained. "It's a Sikh Martial art that combines spiritual, emotional, physical and magical components. He'll teach it to you if you help him with his students. You won't master it, as you need to taught it when you are still young and malleable. Utta started training before he showed the first spark of magic. There's only a handful of Sikh mages that can utilize two wands as effectively as our Utta."_

___Both wizards winced when the student got bounced on his rear, and told to start again._

___"He doesn't pull his punches," Filius dryly commented._

___"We don't have time for niceties, Filius. I warned you of that. These students need to learn, and learn quickly. You are to push them as hard as you can. If you break them, it is better that is done now, rather than later when someone is depending on them."_

___The line of students was quickly dispatched, and then Utta noticed Filius was there._

___"Can we spar? I need the practice. Teaching students is making me slow and fat," Utta dryly remarked._

___And Filius agreed, unsure of what the heck he was getting into, as Utta was about as fat and slow as a black leopard, but Filius was still determined to experience everything he could._

___"No killing blows, no unforgivable curses. You don't need to pull your magic with me. I use two wands, as I have two hands," Utta explained. "We'll go slowly at first, so you can adjust your technique to it, and we will then pick up speed."_

___It wasn't a duel; it was a deadly dance between two Masters. The two wizards started slowly, experimenting, probing the other's strengths and weaknesses. There was a flurry of blows exchanged as magic was cast and deflected, and then each mage nodded in grudging approval, recognizing the rarest of opponents, an equal in strength and experience, but with an unique style. They then stopped for breath._

___"Interesting choice of spells there, Utta," Filius remarked._

___"Something my father taught me," the Sikh proudly admitted. "That last spell was an unusual counter curse."_

___They raised their wands once more and began circling each other. Powerful magic was cast, was met and then deflected by the other's potent magic._

___Utta had a pattern, Filius noticed. Intricate wand work was done left-handedly; any magic requiring brute force was done by his right hand. He didn't trust the Sikh at all, as any self respecting dueling mage that fought with two wands should be ambidextrous, so he was prepared to parry when Utta's right hand flicked and swished a most potent spell._

___"You didn't really think that I'd fall for __**that**__ old saw," Filius protested. "I'm hurt. Do you think I'm a... student?"_

___"Well, you have to try the basic feints first. Why waste this on someone too dense to appreciate it," Utta paused before providing a vicious right, left, right and then left hand casting combination that Filius barely managed to deflect._

___"You dance around too much, Utta. Don't you get __**tired**__?" taunted Filius, as his rapid swishes and flicks caused the Sikh to dance away._

___Utta was lively on his feet, Filius had to admit. He didn't stand still at all!_

___"It's from teaching students. I add the steps to make it more of an effort for me. I'm not as good as I once was," Utta explained before initiating a spectacular deflection of Filius' casting that proved that he was lying or else exceedingly modest._

___They battled for another twenty minutes, Filius delighted that he had the sweating Utta breathing heavily, and then they both again agreed silently to another respite. Filius noticed that most of the students were staring wide-eyed at the small, foreign mage, obviously startled that he could go head to head with Utta Singh, and he felt like pumping his fist. There was nothing like a good duel to get one's heart pumping!_

___Naturally, Utta being an instructor simply couldn't stop talking._

___"You are a good solo mage, but you probably can't do decent group work, can you?" The Sikh questioned. "India prides itself on group magic. I tell you that not even the Russian Consortium can match our mage teams."_

___"I don't have much practice," Filius regretfully admitted. "Dueling's illegal these days."_

___"Indira! Ibrahim! Noor! Trilochan! Get on the platform." The instructor paused, and then pointed at several random students. "Kritika! Nigel! Mohammed! Zakiyah! Jaya!"_

___They were set up in a team of four instructors verses the five students, offensive verses defensive with Trilochan responsible for shielding Utta. Utta would provide a running commentary on the duel._

___"Raise your wands! On the count of three… one… two… three…"_

___Bloody hell._

___What an unholy experience, as it felt like his soul had come home. Instinctively, he found himself fitting into the pattern of the Instructors' group. Indira, small, slight, not fast on her feet due to her lame hip, but lightning fast with her wand work. Very deft touch on her wand that belied exactly how powerful she was. Ibrahim was intense, fiery yet firmly under control with his wife, Noor being a bright burning flame._

___The students… The Sikh Jaya was probably the best of the five, dual wanded, he noticed. Zakiyah was a good defensive mage, less than secure in her offensive skills. Mohammed's control on his flames was not as firm as his parents, but still that would come with practice. The girl Kritika was busy watching everything, her eyes intently focusing on the teachers' feet work and wand work._

___Nigel… Nigel was a bruiser. Hell of a lot of power, not so much finesse. The boy, by rights, should have been a Hogwarts student, but his parents oversaw a tea plantation in Mumbai, and he had elected to attend India. If he told Galatea Merrythought about the boy's potential, she would have wept into her tea over losing such a student._ _Being slightly distracted by that thought, Filius got nailed by just the tiniest bit of the boy's power, and it rattled his teeth. Indira had protected him until he was able to shake it off._

___"Enough! Tomorrow morning, same time. Dismissed!" Utta announced. "Indira, you need to massage that hip more. You are not as supple as you should be."_

* * *

Oh bloody, bloody hell, Severus commented after the memory ended. Filius was in tears, his shoulders shaking, and Minerva was next to him, hugging and consoling the mage. 

"Flitwick-ji, we did not mean to make you cry," Kritika softly announced. The India witch sounded sincere and quite distressed.

"No, it's not your fault… I just haven't… really looked at these memories in quite a while."

"We have more to share, if you are willing."

Filius looked away from the Indian witch, and for some reason, Severus realized that Filius was staring at **him**.

**"What do I say?" ** Filius mouthed.

Severus could only shrug his shoulders, wishing that he had only been smart enough to tell Albus to sod off before the situation had reached this critical mass. It didn't reassure him when a quick glance at Minerva convinced him that she felt the same way.

Filius then shrugged his shoulders in helplessness, nodded his head in silent agreement and the memories began anew.

___They taught him how to use a flying carpet. Not one of the standard flying carpets, but a stripped down, sleek one person model that zipped and zoomed through the halls of the Indian School of Magic. Noor was his flight instructor, and she took the corners at a speed that quite took his breath away. It wasn't unusual to see the Instructors using the carpets to play the Indian version of Quidditch, at speeds Filius knew were unsafe and quite insane. Plus, the Instructors insisted on STANDING upright when they used the carpets, often appearing to be in imminent danger of falling off when they zipped along, their bodies leaning into the curves to increase their speed. Indira... Indira was often seen using her cane as a fulcrum in order to pick up her speed when taking a sharp, hairpin turn._

___His fellow Instructors were patient, but never the less insistent, and before long, he was speeding along on his carpet. Not quite as comfortably as the natives, as he didn't have their desire for speed, but enough to be competent._

___Until the one day he found out that Utta was expecting to duel with him while they used __**carpets**_

___Those particular lessons had ensured that his pride had been deflated to manageable levels._

___Happy memories followed._

___Noor demonstrating elemental magic to him, not expecting him to grasp the concept of wandless magic. He dutifully meditated as she instructed, pulled his mind toward the elements, encompassed the sacred fire and then nonverbally cast. After an odd sensation of his stomach flipping, Filius was rewarded with a dancing flame on his index finger, and a loud gasp of surprised delight from Noor._

___The lessons in the various elemental magic continued under the strict tutorage of Ibrahim, until he was able to cast lightning from the skies, create rain with a thought, and light fires with a single touch. It was an odd experience for him, as Ibrahim placed him with his other students for his instruction. They towered over him, yet were extremely diffident to the small mage in their midst. _

___The times spent conversing with Trilochan, who always insisted on reading his tea leaves after Filius had drunk his masala tea. When asked what the Jain saw, it was always a flippant answer._

___"They used too much ginger, not enough nutmeg. I predict that they will run out of nutmeg before the next shipment of spices as they've under ordered."_

___As his department head, the Jain extended an obvious effort to ensure that he was fitting in with the rest of the Indian staff. Trilochan was quite dry, and he kept Filius informed of the various subtle currents in the India School of Magic. Head Mistress Shalini was seen by some as being too willing to take __**all**__ the various viewpoints of the numerous cultures into consideration._

___Filius was warned about Nisha Kamath, the Astronomy teacher, who was very much a traditionalist and an isolationist. He felt uneasy when he looked at Nisha, as she reminded him of nothing so much as a poised viper about to strike. He told Trilochan that, and the Jain arched his eyebrow before nodding his head._

___If Utta and Ibrahim were Gryffindor, Nisha was most assuredly Slytherin. He never had any particular problems with his Slytherin students, but he also kept a close eye on his silver and green clad children._

___She was never deliberately rude to him, but he had experienced enough slights in his life to realize that the witch detested him. He also noticed that whenever he met the witch, Ibrahim, Noor, Utta, Indira or Trilochan usually buffered him._

___Ibrahim always made a hissing noise when Nisha spoke, and the witch's face grew dark with barely concealed fury. He knew that noise, could recognize it, yet he couldn't identify it. When he asked Ibrahim, the mage just cheerily changed the subject._

___Teaching the honor students of the India school was ... fun... . There was only twenty of them, in a section that was dubbed 'The Cadre'. They were at first quite shy with him, then gradually warming up to him. Before long they were following him through the school to ask him the most interesting questions about Hogwarts and non-Eastern magic, many of which left him completely flabbergasted and rather embarrassed._

___And how the students loved to play tricks on him, because they realized that he was even tempered. They'd never dare to pull their stunts on their other instructors especially the fiery Ibrahim and the quick-tempered Indira, but he didn't mind. He'd often find the unexpected in his class, such as the day that the various animagus in his class decided to turn into their forms while his back was turned. Assorted birds of prey, a snow leopard and other big cats, and a rather dejected Kritika whose animagus form had not yet stabilized greeted Filius._

___Indira, a fellow Ravenclaw, if he had ever met one, and her vast library. She was a devotee of Saraswati, the Hindu goddess of knowledge. She also willingly confessed to being like Saraswati, by possessing a fiery temper, being easily provoked and was somewhat quarrelsome. But knowledge for Indira was worth far more than jewels. The two of them often had arguments about the arcane that left Utta shaking his head in utter confusion._

___"Thankfully, I am a mere fighter, not a philosopher! My brain would explode if I knew as much as those two. Just point me in the direction to fight, that's all I need!"_  
_  
_Filius burst out laughing. It was a loud laugh and it echoed in the Quidditch Pitch. He shook his head and laughed again.

"Indira was a speed demon. She was so strict but oh, how she loved to speed. Shalini regularly threatened to suspend her carpet privileges."

"See, I told you Filius had happy memories," Albus softly hissed so only Minerva and Severus could hear him.

"I still worry," Minerva whispered to Severus.

"So do I," Severus admitted.

The Indian witch held out her hands, placing her right palm over the top of her left hand, even while she spread her fingers apart while crossing her thumbs.

"The Garuda Mudra?" Filius softly questioned. "There's another memory left that you wish to share, Kritika?"

"Only if you approve," she whispered.

He shook his head. "I can not..."

"You saved the lives of many of our students, Flitwick-ji, at great risk to your own. I would tell the story... Your Ministry of Magic... they dishonor you! They put you on probation, Flitwick-ji! Probation! It is an **insult**!" The witch snapped.

Mohammed Masood inserted his opinion into the conversation, "You saved so many lives, Flitwick-ji. You could have fled from the carnage, there would have been no shame. Yet you **stayed**."

"You stayed my hand, Flitwick-ji, preventing my soul from falling further into darkness," Nigel St. John announced. "Your story should be told!"

The crowd of Indian mages was loudly murmuring, their disapproval of Filius' treatment readily apparent to even Dolores Umbridge. Her face was a mixture of emotions, anger that these upstarts were openly critical of her and her beloved Cornelius Fudge, yet tempered with the unhappy realization that Mohammed Masood could easily set her on fire with a single wave of his hand.

"Tell if you must," Filius softly requested.

"I share with you now the fall of the School of India, and how this honored mage stayed to defend the school," announced the Head Mistress of India.

___They were sitting in Utta's office, having tea. Well, most were having tea, Trilochan was sipping water. He was standing in the corner, about to make a dry comment suitable for a prophet when his eyes rolled back in his head. The water fell from his hand, and he slumped to the floor. There was a loud explosion that echoed through the building, rattling the walls. Utta, with his lightning fast reflexes, grabbed Trilochan and safely guided the Seer to the floor, and they all stood around the prone figure, visibly uncertain of what to do. Filius, needing to do something, made a move towards the door so to check on the students, but Noor stopped him._

___"We need to know what's happening. Trilochan's collapsing when that noise happened is not a good omen," she explained._

___The Seer began speaking in guttural tones, unlike his usual smooth, basso profundo and Indira leaned over. Her face was first concerned, and then it grew more and more alarmed._

___"It's Dhundhari," Noor softly explained to Filius. "It's a very strange dialect for him. I didn't even know he spoke it."_

___"Utta, Ibrahim, get him up. We need him __**standing**__. May Devi have mercy as it's begun," Indira explained. "Shalini has been murdered, but she went down fighting. We need to get the students out."_

___"What?" Filius questioned._

___"All these years, Trilochan has been Seeing this event. Our school is being overrun by insurgents. Nisha has made her move and now it's time to fight." Indira's voice was strangely, eerily calm, as though she had been practicing this speech for however long._

___"Nisha?" Filius asked, feeling as though he had missed most of the conversation._

___"I had prayed that we had more time to prepare," Noor whispered._

___Utta grabbed assorted wands and began placing them inside various pockets. Ibrahim and Noor put their foreheads together, as though gathering much needed strength from their spouse before they broke apart. The Fire Mage then ripped a pin off his sherwani, and handed it to Filius. The pin was a rather ornate eagle sigil in gold._

___"Take this," Ibrahim insisted. "It's a port key, keyed to your voice. Says "Hogwarts", and it will take you to your school. We can't get you back into your school grounds, but you will get as close as possible."_

___"The Ministry was informed of the situation," Trilochan announced. His voice was weak, but he was standing. "Shalini had wards, powerful wards that she had spun. When she died, the breaking of those wards should have triggered alarms at the Ministry and various other locations. We just need to hold off the insurgents until the Aurors arrive. Come! Filius, it is now time for you to return home."_

___"I'm not leaving," Filius insisted. He was an instructor; he couldn't run for the hills while his students were in danger._

___"Filius, this is not your fight, go!" Ibrahim sternly protested. The younger mage was radiating sincerity and his wife was nodding her head in agreement. "Go! You've done enough. To die in India is not part of your contract, now go!"_

___"Like bloody hell am I leaving," Filius retorted. "You need help until the Aurors arrive. What are we up against?"_

___"The Children of Kali," Utta explained. "Snakes... Nagas. Your eyes saw truly when you believed Nisha to be a viper. She desires to return our school to a more… traditional approach."_

___Filius stepped into a nightmare when they walked out of the Sikh's office. Smoke was filling the halls, zigzagging cracks lined the walls, and Trilochan, the Jain, insisted on taking the lead._

___"Stand close, I can shield you," the Jain ordered._

___"You should be wearing SANDALS at least," Indira snapped._

___Yes, Trilochan was barefoot._

___"I go barefoot so I don't accidentally step on any living creatures," Trilochan reminded her._

___"We're being overrun by serpents! And he's worried about stepping on them," Ibrahim sharply commented. "Jains!"_

___"Headmaster Trilochan," Utta spoke quickly. "We can use carpets. Indira and you can fly them. With Filius here, we can split into two teams. A fighter and a fire mage on both carpets will even the odds."_

___"Agreed. Also, Indira will be my successor. When I fall, you will take your instructions from Indira," Trilochan quietly ordered. He held up his hand to silence their protests. "Jain Headmasters never last for too long, you know. We're too... ethereal... for the physical realm."_

___Fragments of memories..._  
_ ..Shattering of his soul...  
_ _That's the only way he could ever be able to explain the horrors._  
_ glimpses...  
sights...  
_ _ shattered glass, blood running through the halls  
smells...  
_ _charred...a sickly sweet smell of incense..._ mixed with burnt flesh.

___Hell had come to India, and the very devils of the inferno were pouring forth.,..._  
_ ...Vipers...  
_ _thousands of them...  
_ _ pouring into the school while the soot smeared Children of Kali sang and dance in their unholy glee..._

___Trilochan, walking, unafraid...__into the very midst of the serpents that crowded the floor of the hallway, deliberately not stepping on a single snake, in order to rescue a terrified first year that was precariously perched on a bookshelf.  
_  
_...Utta danced while he cast..._  
_ his feet refusing to stand still, both wands blazing..._

___Indira, weeping...  
_ realizing that _the Jains had fallen... not even raising their wands to defend themselves...  
_

___children  
_ _ students_  
_ screaming._  
_huddled together... Being thrown onto the carpets so at least _

___some_

___ could_

___escape._

___A group of first years... terror stricken... dark eyes full of an incomprehensible fear..._

___ pressing the eagle pin into their limp hands... screaming __**HOGWARTS!**_ _as a benediction..._

___His wand shattered..._

___too much energy ..._

___ too much will..._

___. ..too much anger..._

___forced into a _

___ rosewood wand with a chimera scale center..._

___ Good for charm work, the silvery eyed Olivander swore. Not so good for_

___protection..._

___He focused..._ _ignoring the blood that filled his eyes, the pain from the laceration burning faintly, he needed to concentrate…_

___ casting with his hand..._

___concentrate..._

___ Fire was simple... it matched the anger in his heart... blazing..._

___Noor ... Ibrahim... incandescent as the sun... casting fireballs against the very hordes of hell _

___"STOP IT! YOU'RE MELTING THE ARCHWAY! NOOR! IBRAHIM! FILIUS!!!!!!"_

_Utta shaking him, screaming at him to stop. Staring in stunned bemusement, as the ancient granite and marble halls of the India School of Magic had melted, twisted, misshapen due to the extreme heat._

___ "We have to fall back..." Trilochan ordered._

_ ... Utta standing at the bottleneck... _

___knowing ... accepting one mage could delay..._ _not stop... the inevitable..._

_ both wands raised... smiling... laughing... even as the Nisha's forces drew closer..._

___Stumbling... _

___ exhausted..._

___one of the students grabbed him... forced him to drink. Rationality returned as he drank the cool water. _

___"Rest while you can, Filius," Indira whispered. "Let me heal that laceration. It will leave quite the scar, I'm afraid. You will have an exciting story to tell your suitors when you return home."_

___Her tone was light, though they both knew that it was doubtful that they'd escape._

___Her hand on his... his eyes were focused on the Masoods... Ibrahim's eyes were blazing, and Noor's rapturous face was... transcendent. She was resting her head on her husband's shoulder and Ibrahim had one arm wrapped protectively around Noor. _

___"They won't make it out..." Indira whispered. "It's getting... harder... to call them back from the Burn, Filius. They will be__**consumed**__..."_

___"Utta?" He whispered, knowing the answer, praying, pleading that he was wrong._

___"He died fighting, facing the enemy, the Naam on his lips," Indira whispered. "He died with __**limitless**__courage. Utta Singh was ... magnificent... He was good before you came here... but you taught him well."_

___"What happens... next?" He softly questioned._

___"Trilochan and the Masoods...will… fall… that's all he Saw. After that, he's not sure. You were... supposed to leave... Filius, and the ripples of you being here are influencing the situation in unforeseen ways. You should not be __**here**__, but undeniably you should be here," she explained. "It was bravely done to save those children... but the port key was for you to __**escape**__."_

___"The Aurors should be coming soon," he wearily retorted. They should be. They should be! Where were they?_

___"They're not coming, Filius. We have been... abandoned... to our fate. 'When Kali walks in the hallways of the India school, weep, India, weep, for you are alone among the serpents. Indra will dance and die, while Agni and Arani burn. Ganesh will weep, and his tears will scald the Earth'. "_

___Agni and Arani with the Hindu god and goddess of fire, and Ganesh... Ganesh was an elephant headed Hindu deity who had a broken right tusk._

___"When I fall, Filius, you will become Head Master," Indira whispered. She put her fingers over his mouth to silence him. "When Shalini fell, Utta Singh was the most logical choice to become Head Master. Nisha focused on him, which is why Shalini chose Trilochan. A Jain? In charge during a massacre? Nisha would never believe it, could never comprehend why Shalini would chose Trilochan."_

___"I don't understand it myself," Filius softly admitted._

___"Utta was single minded in his battle. The Masoods will be soon utterly consumed in the Burn... Shalini... Shalini wanted something of the school to survive. The sanctity of life is foremost for Trilochan... something must survive, Filius. It has been our focus for all these years... but we need to ensure that what endures is __**worthy**__ of surviving. India needs your wisdom and your compassion, Filius. If necessary, I know you will lead the school well."_

___"Head Master? Isn't there anyone else?" Filius protested._

___"No," Indira stated. "You are now Deputy Headmaster of the India School of Magic, Filius Flitwick. When I first met you, I worried so. You were small, and so compassionate. I feared that you would not be strong enough for this battle. Forgive an old woman for her doubts, Filius."_

___She turned away from him, and wiped her eyes._

___"Protect your children, Filius," the witch pleaded._

___"The children?"_

___"The Cadre…" Indira explained. "We've turned them into weapons, Filius. We had no other choice, for the other instructions refused to listen to Trilochan. If you survive, you will need to turn our weapons back into children."_

___The school rocked, as though it was under attack from the outside. It was followed by a rapid succession of staccato explosions, and part of the hallway collapsed into dust._

___"Some one is trying to get into the school," Ibrahim quietly announced over Indira's coughing. "It's not the Aurors, as the school wards would allow them entrance. But with factions of instructors fighting each other in the hallways, the school has barricaded itself from the outside world. I'm not sure who it is, but... the flavor of magic? It tastes... Russian... Could it be the Russian Consortium?"_

___"Shalini would have contacted them for aid," Trilochan agreed. "Nepal. Tibet also."_

___There was a rapid series of percussive blasts that seemed to be coming from the same side of the previous explosions, and Filius smiled. He knew the flavor of that magic, knew the witch quite well that was currently assaulting the walls of the India school of magic._

___"One, two, three... one, two, three... It's Galatea Merrythought. Utta... tangos when he fights… fought…. but Galatea... Galatea waltzes. Phineas must have sent help. Hogwarts has sent help…"_

___Actually, Armando Dippet must have strong-armed Headmaster Black into sending help. No doubt a dozen or so hysterical Indian students arriving on the very doorsteps of Hogwarts had caused the professors to rise up against Phineas' refusal to send aid and demand action. _  
_  
"Nisha's holed up in the Great Hall," Trilochan announced. "She's doing some sort of ritual. Can you feel it? The very walls scream in terror. Noor, Ibrahim... come with me. We will break into the Great Hall. Magically, the doors are protected, but she has forgotten simple kinematics! One good push with my shoulder and the doors will collapse."_

___"You are truly Ganesh, remover of obstacles," Noor teased._

___"I'm more of a battering ram, Noor. But she must be taken out... she must be stopped."_

___The Masoods bobbed their heads in acknowledgement, and Ibrahim assisted his wife off the floor. That done, he turned to Filius. He extended his wand toward Filius, and bowed._

___"I can't take your wand, lad," Filius wearily protested._

___"You are wandless," Ibrahim firmly stated. "For this, I do not need a wand. You may need one, so I offer you my own."_

___"Take it, Filius-ji," Trilochan insisted. "It is a wand made by your Olivander. I purchased it when I visited your country many years ago. It worked in the shop, but not after I came to India. I kept it, deciding one day to give it a student who had destroyed his wand."_

___Ibrahim and Trilochan both fondly smiled at that shared memory, and Noor quipped, "And two of the greenhouses, I believe."_

___"Perhaps it will work for you... perhaps it will only work for a short time... but perhaps you could continue the tradition, and give it to a worthy student who is in need of a wand. It is mahogany with a Runespoor Fang core," Ibrahim informed him._

___Regretfully, Filius took the wand. Experimentally, he flicked the wand and sparks flared from the end._

___"It's quite responsive," Filius admitted._

___"Fare you well, Filius. Perhaps, I will meet you again," Trilochan stated. "The Masoods, no doubt, will ascend directly to their heaven, but I may have to go through several more lives. I truly hope that I will not return as an ant. They get stepped on so easily."_

___Filius bit his lip, and nodded his head, refusing to let his emotions overwhelm him._

___"Siddha," Indira's voice was soft as she used the term of respect. "I believe that you have reached nirvana."_

___The Jain sadly smiled, and nodded his head. "Yet, I must do this. Come, Ibrahim and Noor, we ride for India! If she still lives and we do not, you will need to do the Final Strike, Indira."_

___The witch agreed, and turned away, not wanting to say goodbye._

___The Jain stretched and changed into his Animagus form. The elephant gently snuffled Filius' hair with his truck before he touched Indira on her shoulder. The witch remained motionless, but Filius knew that she was quite close to tears. The Masoods easily climbed on to the elephant's back, and positioned themselves. With a final nod, the elephant began to trot down the long hallway. He started off slowly, and then began to build up speed._

___Indira whispered, "Come, Filius, we must go. If we get to the gates, we can open them."_

___He stared at her, and it was like he was staring at the soot stained face of a complete stranger. Indira looked... exhausted... and her eyes were full of sorrow. Somehow the witch was standing under her own power, but it was obvious that she was in a great deal of pain from her hip._

_"__We can not let their sacrifice be in vain."_

* * *

___Indira had found a carpet. They were speeding through the school, Indira recklessly pushing the carpet to its limits when the insurgents surrounded them. His wand flashed and burned their enemies, while Indira guided the carpet. She was speeding, the carpet shifting beneath them, and the witch raised her cane._

___It was a futile gesture of defiance, as there was no way she could keep control of the carpet while they ricocheted around the turn. He was falling, and Indira executed a half twist when she fell. With a fluid gesture of her wand, she flicked her wand toward Filius and screamed. An argent blaze erupted from her wand and engulfed him, but he could still see Indira being swarmed by vipers._

___With a muffled thud, he hit something... someone... hard... The body cushioned his fall, and he felt hands touching him. He grabbed his wand, and his unknown captures overpowered him by sheer force of numbers, forcing the wand away from him. Where the bloody hell was he? One minute he was in a hallway, the next Filius found himself in a dark room._

___"Master Flitwick-ji?" A female voice softly questioned. "Is there a reason why you wish do us harm?"_

___It was Kritika Mukhopadhyay's voice. The Head Girl had her wand directly underneath his chin and she pressed it hard against his skin._

___"Miss Mukhopadhyay? What are you doing here?" He questioned, obviously confused. "What am I doing here?"_

___"I'm leading the Cadre," she retorted. "As for you, I do not know. You unexpectedly appeared, and landed on Nigel with a rather mighty oomph."_

___"My apologies, Mr. St. John," Filius whispered. "Instructor Gupta sent me here. I have to open the gates as there are mages outside. They're trying to enter the school but they can't get in."_

___"Whose side are they on?" Kritika intently questioned._

___"One of them is a Hogwarts Mage. She's quite powerful."_

___"Very well," she decided. "Mohammed, give him his wand back."_

___"Miss Mukhopadhyay?" Filius questioned. "Would first you mind removing your wand from my jugular?"_

___She flushed, and quickly moved her wand to a safer location. Filius extended his hand toward Mohammed, who was staring at the wand._

___"This was my father's wand," Masood softly stated, his voice stressing the verb was. "He has fallen in battle?"_

___The boy was staring at him and Filius forced himself to look directly into __**Ibrahim's**__ eyes. Dark, weighing eyes that knew the truth._

___"I don't know, Mohammed. Trilochan, your father and your mother went up against Nisha," Filius refused to give voice to the strong possibility that the heroic trio was dead. "Ibrahim gave me his wand, as mine had shattered. He was using elemental magic, so he didn't need his wand. Lad, I've got to get the Gates open."_

___He stood up, and to his horror, the students moved to follow him._

___"Get out of the school. You can Apparate out of here," he protested. "I can do this."_

___"We will not flee," Kritika retorted. "We have been trained to stand and fight, Master Flitwick-ji. You will either lead us, or we will go our own way."_

___"Twenty points, Ms. Mukhopadhyay, for disobeying a direct order from an instructor. Ten points from each of your fellow students," Filius snapped. "As Head Girl, I expected far better from you."_

___"We are obeying the direct orders of Headmistress Shalini Kumari Chauhan," she softly explained. "May I be so bold as to state my belief that I do not believe that points will be deducted?"_

___"Shalini's dead," Filius informed her._

___"Her instructions remain until the new Head of the school informs us otherwise." That comment was from Nigel St. John._

___"Indira appointed me Deputy Head Master," he retorted. "I'm ordering you to leave."_

___"Master Flitwick-ji, I must respectfully inform you that if you wish us to leave, that we can only leave via the front gate. To Apparate out of the school directly requires the permission of the Head of the school. Unfortunately, Deputy Head Masters can not authorize that," Mohammed Masood inserted. The Head Boy crossed his arms, looking so much like his father that Filius had to look away. "It is... in that direction."_

_"__Very well," Filius snapped. "You are all still on report. You should all expect two month's worth of detention for disobeying my orders."_

___His quip caused a few of the students to smile._

___But he couldn't help but remember Indira's last words to him. _

___We've turned them into weapons, Filius. We had no other choice, for the other instructions refused to listen to Trilochan. If you survive, you will need to turn our weapons back into children._

___"Perhaps, we can plead extenuating circumstances in our defense?" Nigel softly questioned. His auburn hair was matted with blood, and yet he still attempted to smile._

___"No, lad. You can forget about Quidditch for the next two months," Filius informed him._

___Nigel softly laughed._

* * *

___It was long, bitter fight, but Filius and the thirteen remaining members of the Cadres fought their way to the very Gates of the school. The students were using illegal, dirty dueling tricks, and Filius blessed Utta for teaching them how to fight dirty._

___Nisha's support teams fled before them, and Filius couldn't blame them. Mohammed Masood was Burning, a truly frightening specter of flames, steadfastly cutting down all that stood against them._

___One of Kali Children threw his wand to the floor._

___"Mercy," he pleaded._

___Filius opened his mouth to accept his request for clemency, but Mohammed pointed his burning hand toward the mage, his willingness to burn the mage unaffected by the fact that the mage had surrendered. A quick glance showed Filius that most of the students were staring hard eyed at the defenseless mage, weighing and deciding what to do to him. The lone exception was __Ravindra Jain__, who stared at Filius, and the boy shook his head._

___"This is a great evil," Ravindra whispered. "Do not let them do this."_

___"NO!" Filius insisted. "He's surrendered."_

___"I recognize him. The Jains surrendered, and he did not honor it," Nigel firmly stated. "He cut them down where they stood."_

___The boy pointed his wand directly at the insurgent, and he began to cast. It was an Unforgivable Curse, and Filius was horrified that the laughing boy was about to cold bloodedly murder a mage that had thrown down his wand._

___"No, NIGEL! His wand is on the floor, you will NOT do this. You will have to go through me!"_

___Recklessly, he stood in front of Nigel's wand, and the boy stared at him. The student's eyes were full of the horrors he had witnessed that night, and Filius shook his head._

___"They wouldn't want you to do this, lad." He whispered. "Indira's heart would break if she knew what you were considering."_

___"He slaughtered them," Nigel protested. "He should DIE."  
_

___"They were Jains," Filius reminded them. "They believed in non-violence. They died for their beliefs. What would Trilochan say if he was here now?"_

___Nigel turned away then, ashamed of how close he had come to stepping over that thin line of sanity, and Filius reached up to pat the boy on his shoulder._

___Damn it, no matter where he went, his students were always taller than he was._

___"It's alright, lad. Let's get the gates open."_

___"Perhaps, Master Flitwick-ji, I should have my Quidditch privileges revoked next year also," the boy suggested._

___"Extenuating circumstances, lad. Besides, Indira will be vexed if she loses a Beater for her team."_

* * *

___He had left the students at the Gates, ordering them to get them open quickly. Filius had decided that he'd deal with Nisha. As far as he knew, he was the last of the instructors of the India school, and it was his responsibility._

___One exhausted, grieving small man stood face to face with a nightmare. Nisha's face was stained with blood and dirt, and her eyes were feverishly bright. Lost in the ecstasy of her madness, she was dancing while the remains of his friends smoldered. Indira lay on the floor, bond and gagged, but her eyes were calm._

___She had nodded once when she saw him, letting him know that whatever happened, she was prepared. _

___Rowena, his familiar was dead. Bravely, she had dove toward Nisha, to harass and blind the witch. She had been joined in her final attack by a green and scarlet Phoenix, and a large Griffin that had hissed its defiance at Nisha._

___The hissing noise was familiar, and Filius had laughed when he realized that Ibrahim had been impersonating a griffin. Nisha hadn't reacted well to the griffin, and Filius wondered about her extreme reaction._

___The eagle, Phoenix and griffin had fought bravely, allowing him to swish and flick Indira from the room and toward safely, but Rowena had been killed. The Phoenix had taken a blow across its face and wing, screamed in pain and then had disappeared in a poof. _

___The griffin… the griffin was lying on her side, resting on her crushed and broken left wing, blood draining from her beak. The magnificent creature was drowning in her own blood, her lungs punctured by a multitude of broken ribs, and Filius wanted to weep._

___"Oh, you've made so very, very angry, Bitch," he cursed._

___He felt the power of the storm that was building over the school. With a detachment that was almost frightening, he gestured._

___"And that was your fatal mistake."_

___She was still dancing when she was hit by lightning. Not content with only one strike, Filius dispassionately watched as she was repeatedly hit by lightning. The storm was raging out of control, he couldn't summon the magic to stop it, could not for the very soul of him, figure out why he should care. He sank to the stone floor and wept, while the lightning continued to crash down around him._

___Let it be quick, let it be soon, he prayed._

___The griffin moved slightly, and he felt her right wing cover him._

___"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I don't have anything left to help you. I'm completely spent."_

___There was the sense that someone was nudging his soul. Pointed, sharp jabs, as though some specter was striving to get his attention and getting quite vexed that he was being ignored._

_"__Remember this, when all seems lost, Filius Flitwick, look to the skies."_

___And so Filius looked upwards. To his surprise, there was a large bird circling above him, even as it gracefully avoided the lightning bolts._

___It was a Russian firebird..., which meant that the gates to the India school had been opened and help had finally arrived._

* * *

___  
He woke in a small room, and Galatea Merrythought was sitting next to his bed. The blonde witch smiled and shushed him._

___"You're quite the hero, Filius," she teased. "Though after this, I think that I'm quite content to stay at Hogwarts. I had thought about taking a sabbatical, but I do not believe that I'm up to being a hero."_

___"I'm no hero," he protested._

___"Excuse me, they're telling stories about Garuda incarnate. Seventy-two meters tall! Breathing fire! Eagles flying! Dual wands! You melted marble, Filius! Or should I call you Deputy Head Master Flitwick? Dippet will be so upset that you've been promoted! He thought that he'd get the position before you!"_

___"Rowena's dead," He whispered._

___"I know. A few of the students wish to present you with a male eagle to replace her, but they wished to find out if you were willing." The witch sank back in her chair. "I know you prefer female eagles, Filius, but perhaps… you might consider it."_

___He couldn't answer that, not yet, so Filius attempted to change the subject._

___"What did I miss? And while it's good to see you here, why ARE you here? Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts?"_

___"I was having a spot of tea in the Staff Room when this Indian woman appeared in the middle of the room! She informed us that the School had fallen to insurgents and that you were being evacuated. If you failed to appear within fifteen minutes, we were to assume that you were being hopelessly noble…"_

_"__Shalini did not say that…" Filius weakly protested, though he could imagine the caustic Shalini saying exactly that._

___"Yes, she did. Where was I? You were being hopelessly noble and that we needed to send a team in to extricate you, but that the situation was quite dire. She was quite insistent on that. So Armando decided to have a long winded discussion with dear Head Master Black about our need to extricate you, and I decided to pop on over to India."_

___"You did a Continental Apparition Jump?" Filius questioned. "I'm impressed."_

___"Yes, but it left me a little winded. I was outside the gates when this big bear arrived, turned into a mage and began battering at the gates. I decided I couldn't let him have all the fun, and I demanded my turn. Then, all these magi in orange robes appeared and they began casting. The Gates would have stayed closed, but these students unexpectedly opened the door! A chap with auburn hair asked if I knew you, because you were in need of help. Apparently, you were being hopelessly noble once again…"_

___Filius shushed her, but Merrythought continued on merrily with her discussion, "And that if you didn't get some help and quickly, you'd be not only hopelessly noble, but quite utterly dead. When I finally got to the Great Hall, Head Mistress Indira Gupta was already there. She's quite the firebrand, Filius. She told off the Aurors."_

___"They showed up?"_

___"And hour later and a galleon short, if you know what I mean. She revoked whatever magical permissions that allowed them into the school, and they're gone. I think she moved the school, also. I don't remember that particular mountain range when I arrived. But yes, she kicked them off the property and told the Ministry to go to Hell!" Merrythought laughed and smiled. "I quite enjoy her, Filius!"_

___"There was a griffin and a Phoenix that were injured, do you know how they made out?" Filius questioned. "I think they were animagus."_

___"Masood lost an eye and we're not sure if he'll ever fly again," Indira inserted from behind Merrythought. "__Namasté__, Filius. It is good to see you awake."_

___"Ibrahim?" Filius questioned._

___"Mohammed," Indira answered. "That Bear Mage from Russia. Yuri? He healed both the griffin and Masood."_

___"Nisha wasn't happy with the griffin," Filius questioned._

___"No, I don't expect that she was. You see, Filius, prophecies can come true, even if they truly aren't prophecies. Trilochan had informed Nisha that if she ever saw a griffin, her death would be imminent."_

___'He lied!" Filius exclaimed in surprise._

___"It came true," Indira protested. "So I wouldn't say he lied, he just twisted the truth somewhat. Trilochan had Saw the potential that you would stay to fight, and that a griffin would be involved in the final battle. Therefore, he Foretold that Nisha would soon die after she heard a Griffin scream. Then a few years ago, we had a student that had the most remarkable animagus form. She was a griffin, so Utta trained her in secret. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hide a Griffin?"_

___"He made it up!" Filius protested._

___"He did not. He was the Seer of India," Indira reminded him. "It's not my fault that Nisha panicked when she saw our griffin."_

___"Trilochan created part of the prophecy," Filius protested. "He fabricated it!"_

___"And Nisha made it self-fulfilling!" Indira retorted._

___The two of them stared at each other, and Indira's mouth quirked in a slight smile. The witch's smile twitched slightly and she began to laugh. Slowly and softly at first, until she was roaring. Filius began laughing also, until the two of them embraced, laughing and weeping for all that had happened.  
_

The crowds were silent, and then Albus Dumbledore motioned to Severus Snape.

"And now presenting the memory from Hogwarts, Severus Snape," Albus softly announced.

With an ease that he wasn't feeling, Severus raised his wand, made of mahogany and powered by a Runespoor Fang core to the sky. Then, using the wand that had once belonged to a Fire Mage of India, Severus Snape began to cast.

* * *

A/N - if you've made it to the end of this, thank you. It was a weird chapter to write, and I'm not sure if it worked. Please be gentle. :) 


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer # 1 - not my characters.

Disclaimer # 2 - thanks to Linz for helping bounce off ideas for Severus' memory, and suggesting her view of the scene where he presents. Since he's a Potions Master, she thought potions should be involved. I hope DA approves of Severus' memories, as since DA was the 100th reviewer, DA wanted him to do something that would make all the wizards go " O O " and get Minerva's heart racing. We'll see in the next chapter how they react.

Disclaimer # 3 - nowhere as near as long as last chapter. Not as traumatic either, well, except for Severus.

Synopsis: India's trauma had been revealed, and Severus is now presenting a Memory of Flitwick for the assembled crowds of wizards and witches.

* * *

Minerva had her doubts about the wisdom of having Severus Snape present the memories from Hogwarts. She shouldn't have held her tongue, no, Minerva should have insisted that she present. Oh bloody hell, Severus? There was no doubt that his still waters ran very deep, but for the deeply private Severus to share his memories? Oh, what a potential cluster it was. Yes, she had the proverbial Himalayas sized mountains of misgivings, a quagmire of qualms, a whirlpool of worries, a field of fears and a metaphoric river of reservations, and she couldn't help but nervously clench her hands together when Severus began to cast. 

"O, ye of little faith, Minerva," Albus softly whispered. He was standing a good ten meters away from where she was standing, so he had 'majiked' his voice into her ear.

"O, he of major delusions," the witch snarkily retorted. "With an unholy joy in creating anarchy."  
_**  
"Sonorous**_," Severus quietly announced.

He had his mahogany wand pointed at his throat, and then his voice echoed through the Quidditch field.

"It is far easier said than done to follow the memories of India School of Magic, Witchcraft and Wizardry with my remembrances of Filius Flitwick. While Head Mistresses Kritika Mukhopadhyay and the others of India know Filius Flitwick as a warrior of legendary stature, we at Hogwarts simply know him as Filius."

"The boy will make me weep," Filius muttered. "I believe I will need a new handkerchief."

"Our Filius is more than a match for any other man or woman; irregardless of size, be they wizard or non."

Severus pulled three vials out of his pocket of his silk frock coat, and Minerva knew that the vials hadn't been there when she had transfigured his coat. With an expert ease, he put one vial into his left hand, which also held his wand, and then he popped the tops off the two vials in his right hand with his thumb. Then deliberately, the Slytherin began to pour the contents onto the grassy fields of the Quidditch pitch.

The two streams of liquid seemed to wind around each other as they traveled across the grass, coming in contact but never seeming to mix. Minerva watched enthralled as with a steady hand and his usual composed visage, Severus added a third ingredient to the mix. This third potion coursed down the stream forged by the other two and when it caught up, all three streams suddenly seemed to ignite.

There was light everywhere, although no flames, and sparks of every color seemed to be jumping twenty feet in the air. It was as though a stream of fireworks had been let loose, and then the memories began.

* * *

_Severus hesitantly requested Rowena the Portrait's permission to enter Filius' quarters.__ The Ravenclaw Founder huffed and puffed, and then finally opened the door._

_"You can go in," she gracelessly decided. "Don't keep him up all night. Today was the first day of classes, and he shouldn't stay up all hours. He's got an early class tomorrow! When is that Slughorn moving out of your quarters? He's long since retired and it's long past time for him to get this stuff out of Hogwarts." _

_He bit his tongue, not wanting to tell the Ravenclaw Founder to go scratch. Filius had been teaching all of a mere hundred thousand years or so, and the Charms Instructor probably knew how much sleep he needed down to the very last snore._

_"How was your first day teaching, Severus?" Filius cheerfully questioned. "Wait, don't tell me just yet. Tradition demands that the House Heads show up at the Senior House Head's quarters on the first night of classes for drinks and a chinwag."_

_"You didn't tell me about that tradition," Severus protested. "What other traditions am I going to find out about at the last minute?"_

_"You'll find out when you need to know, lad. It's part of the tradition," Filius informed him._

_"Minerva's arriving!" Rowena cheerfully called. "She's looks truly chuffed!"_

_The witch stormed in, created a chair and collapsed into it. She put her hands on her head, and gave out a loud scream, which quite frightened Severus._

_"Feel free to make yourself at home, Min," Filius dryly called out. He was balancing a bottle and five glasses on a tray._

_"Pomona's just entered the hallway!" Rowena the Sentinel announced. "She looks thrilled beyond mere words."_

_"Her fourth year class had an over zealous Aubergine thanks to one of my students," Filius explained as he began pouring liquor in a glass. "It grew to almost seventy five kilos and then attempted to lead its fellow Aubergines in a noble, yet ultimately doomed rebellion against Pomona."_

_"Is that why we had Baked stuffed Aubergines for dinner tonight?" Minerva questioned._

_"Yes, and why we'll be eating Aubergines until the House Elves run out of recipes," gleefully exclaimed Filius. Aubergine and tofu satay, Griddled Aubergine salad with nuoc cham, Potato pancakes with Aubergine puree….Severus, when Pomona enters the room, hand her a drink immediately."_

_Pomona stormed into Filius' quarters, and slammed the portrait door shut. Rowena appeared in another portrait that graced Filius' living room wall and she shook her head at the impropriety of a Hogwarts' Founder being chased out of their own portrait._

_"I nearly got killed by a BLOODY SENTIENT EGGPLANT today," Pomona roared. "THANKS TO A RAVENCLAW I MIGHT ADD!"_

_"Here, Pomona," Severus inserted. He pushed the drink into her hand._

_The Hufflepuff Head snatched it from him, and drank the four fingers worth of firewhisky with ease that truly impressed Severus."Fill it up, Severus," she tersely ordered._

_He did so quickly, and Pomona smiled._

_"Such a nice boy. I always held such hopes for the lad," Pomona softly whispered. "Min? Could you whistle up a chair for me? I've had a bad day today."_

_Minerva quickly snapped her wand and before long, Pomona was happily drinking her trouble away in a nice, comfy couch._

_"Bad day? I had a fire! A __**FIRE**__! Your students," McGonagall pointed at Severus, and he felt the first stirrings of alarm. "Your STUDENTS did not pay attention in class today. So when they transferred their match sticks into needles, you know what they did?"_

_Everyone stared at him, and so for the first time ever, and certainly not for the last, he regretfully asked, "What exactly did my students do to upset you, Minerva?"_

_"Suzette Rosier turned her match stick into a needle that was also a cigarette lighter."_

_"That is… impressive… for her first lesson in Transfiguration." He remembered his first Transfiguration class, and how long it had taken him to turn his damn match stick into a needle._

_"She set her desk on fire, Severus!" Minerva roared. "Then all your little students figured out how she did it, and I had to keep putting out fires!"_

_"Here, have a drink, Minerva," Filius insisted._

_"Albus is arriving!" Rowena dutifully announced._

_"Tell him to Sod Off!" Pomona roared._

_"How was your day today, Filius?" Minerva questioned._

_"Pomona, your new Hufflepuffs are a MENANCE!" Filius reported with a most fearsome growl. "They flick when they should swish, and they stab when they should swish."_

_"What did they do to you, Filius?" Minerva asked. Her tone was wheedling, and she continued to plaintively coax Filius to spill his sordid tale._

_"Nearly blew me out of the damn window!" Filius finally admitted._

_"I hate students," Minerva confessed. "I hate them all."_

_"So do I!" Pomona happily insisted, as she was getting quite sloshed. "And I particularly hate Aubergines!"  
_

"_How about you, Severus? How was your first day instructing?" questioned Filius._

_"I've heard stories," the head of Gryffindor whispered. "They can't possibly be true, as that means you've had the Worst First Day Teaching Ever at Hogwarts in the Entire History of Hogwarts."_

_"Oh, and Poppy gave me a tally of how many were injured!" Pomona roared. "You've managed to put more students in the hospital wing on the first day then Horace did ALL of last year!"_

_"It was a Gryffindor," Severus explained, ignoring Minerva's protests that he was picking on her students. "They decided to ignore my instructions, and decided to add a mixture of ingredients to a simple, basic potion in order to see what would happen."_

_"What happened?" Pomona questioned. "Come on, it can't be as bad as an Aubergine with a taste for Plant Power."_

_"Two melted cauldrons, a toxic smoke and seventeen students in the infirmary overnight for observation," Severus slowly admitted._

_"And that was only his first class! Tell them what happened during your second period!" Pomona loudly insisted. "It got worse!"_

_Albus arrived, and he was greeted with three letters of resignations. Filius, Minerva and Pomona all handed in their resignations and then decided to go into business on their own._

_"I could make more money being a horticultural witch," Pomona insisted. "Got an offer to host my own show on the Wireless Network. Pomona's Plants. Rather catchy, don't you think?"_

_"I could do so much more than teach," Minerva admitted._

_"I could do anything… willingly… rather than teach another bunch of students who don't know one end of their wand from their other, and who had no appreciation for learning!" Filius insisted. "Oh, I love music. Perhaps I could get a job conducting an orchestra. That would be peaceful."_

_Albus turned and faced Severus, who truthfully was a bit perplexed and surprised by his fellow instructors' mass resignation. All these years, he had thought they enjoyed teaching… but they didn't!_

_"And you?" questioned Albus._

_"He still hasn't finished killing off the entire student body yet," Pomona__merrily__ chortled. "That's tomorrow's teaching assignment!"_

"_I can explain about that," Severus protested. "Gryffindor…"_

"_Oh bloody hell," Minerva retorted. "Horace, Jr. is retreating back to blaming Gryffindor for everything."_

_"Head Master," Severus interrupted._

_"I know that in your first class today, Mr. Tyler decided to add rue and ashwinder to his potion today causing a toxic smoke to fill your classroom. Poppy says no one was hurt, though she decided that she'll ensure that Mr. Tyler's face stays that unique color of… Aubergine… for another few days so he'll learn his lesson." Albus assured him. _

_Pomona giggled. _

"_I have to admit that it was rather funny today. I mean, I've never had an Aubergine recite "T__hus Spoke Zarathustra" and attempt a rebellion."_

_"And I managed to prevent myself from going out the window," Filius inserted. "The boy needs a lighter hand on his wand."_

_"A needle size lighter could be… convenient." Minerva also admitted._

_"Hmm… no doubt you can focus on it in your new venture?" Albus questioned._

_The HeadMaster stared at the three resignation letters that he had clenched in his hand and sadly shook his head._

_"Very well, Severus. I guess since everyone's resigned, you're now Senior House Head. Temporarily, I believe we can have Hagrid as Acting Head of Gryffindor…"  
_

"_HAGRID?" Minerva shrieked._

_"Rolanda for Ravenclaw," Albus merrily continued._

_Filius was at such a loss of words that he failed to answer._

_"And I'll have to find a new Hufflepuff Head. I don't think Sybill Trelawne is a suitable candidate, so perhaps you could oversee the Hufflepuffs? Don't worry, Pomona, I am sure that Severus will continued to ensure that your Hufflepuffs get their traditional hot chocolate before bedtime. I'm not sure if he'll be willing to tuck the first years into bed though."_

_The voices of Pomona and Severus were raised in a clamorous duet of protest at that tidbit. Albus' blue eyes twinkled merrily at Severus, and he gave the Slytherin a quick wink._

_Three wands were quickly raised and the resignation letters spontaneously combusted. Albus failed to notice, as he was reaching for the liquor. The charred remains of the resignation fell to the floor, but with another quick stabbing motion of Filius' wand, they disappeared before they hit the hardwood floor._

_"Another school year begins," the Head Master dramatically intoned. "And our instructors' enthusiasm is only matched by our students!"_

* * *

After the rather dramatic and traumatic memories of the India School, Severus had thought it best to keep his particular memories light and cheerful. But he couldn't help but worry that perhaps his memories were perhaps a bit lightweight compared to the other mages. 

Snippits of conversations with Filius, especially from those first few traumatic months of teaching.

"_I hate them all!" Severus roared. "They're… a colossal group of dunderheads!"_

_"It gets worse, lad. During the winter, they think of nothing but the holiday break. When will it get here, and then after they come back, they won't focus on school, remembering how much fun they had away from Hogwarts. But in the springtime, their hormones get all wonky," Filius informed him. "They'll be too busy eyeing their next infatuation, and they won't care how nicely you chopped your rue for a cheering draught."_

_'How have you managed to teach for all these years without killing any of them?" Severus questioned._

_It was a serious question, but Filius' mustache twitched._

_"I have a very vivid fantasy life." Filius admitted. _

_Memories of assorted musical concerts at Hogwarts that Filius had conducted. As a Head of House, it was highly recommended that he attend. Severus didn't have much of a background in music, he just knew what he liked and what he didn't, and Filius was always throwing some odd piece of music in to 'broaden the student's musical knowledge'._

_After a particularly atonal evening, in which Severus had rapidly given up on trying to comprehend the various pieces, and instead he had concentrated on schooling his face into a serious, respectful mien, Filius caught both him and Minerva at the after concert party._

_"Did you like the last piece? We used a Saraswati vina because of the drone affect," Filius intently questioned._

_His eyes were bright, his tone was eager, and Severus didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. It had sounded like a cat fight.  
_

_"Yes, it was quite…" Severus paused, his prolific vocabulary having decided to go on vacation and leave him tongue tied._

_"Unusual," Minerva inserted._

_Filius' face fell._

_"But in a good way," Severus sincerely added._

_"Yes," Minerva agreed. _

_Filius shook his head, and sighed._

_He included memories of the various Quidditch matches, with a standing Filius jumping up and down on the bleacher row next to him, joyfully screaming when Ravenclaw slaughtered his Slytherins.  
_

_For good measure and to be only fair, he included the memory of a rather torqued Ravenclaw Head not so happily giving him the House Trophy. It was the first year since Severus had joined the Instructor Staff that Slytherin had won the trophy, and Ravenclaw was not so happy about relinquishing it to them._

_"Ten points," Filius growled. "Ten lousy points and we would have won. No doubt, a certain Slytherin Head cost my house those points."_

"_No, Filius, your students lost those points," Severus tersely informed him._

_For that comment, he was given quite the Flitwick glare. He felt himself shrinking back into a twelve year old student again, and Severus attempted to shrug it off. _

_Filius laughed, and Severus sighed in relief._

_"It's about time that Slytherin won the House Cup. Your house hasn't won it in almost fifty years, Severus. But who is counting?" Filius quipped._

* * *

_  
_Severus' show of memories ended, and there was silence. A complete and utter silence that made him rather nervous. 

Maybe he hadn't picked the right memories to share. But the idea behind his memories was to show everyone that irregardless of the fact that Filius was fire breathing Garuda, Defender of Innocents, Slayer of Evil Witches, he had always been a proper gent to everyone, including a rather nervous first year teacher.

The silence continued to build, and he nervously turned to face Filius. Filius was shaking his head, and sobbing uncontrollably into a handkerchief.

Oh bloody hell, he had really cocked it up!

Then to his surprise, Severus heard someone applauding. To his surprise, Minerva was grinning and applauding like mad. It was an energetic round of applause, and then more people began applauding until there was a thunderous hullabaloo in the Quidditch Pitch. Albus Dumbledore was also grinning like a loon, and the Head Master approvingly nodded his head.

"I'm not as barmy as you think I am," Albus mouthed, and Severus nodded his head in agreement. Maybe the old codger wasn't as daft as he pretended. But he was still the biggest pain in the arse.

And yes, then, the South Africian Mages contingency decided it was now time to yell, "Huzzah!"


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer # 1 - Not mine! Not at all!

A/N - in my rush to get this chapter up, I forgot to credit excessivelyperky for the "Hunt the Snake" comment, Lucretia & Linze for their various suggestions.

* * *

Severus. 

After managing not to embarrass himself with his memories of Filius, Severus was quite glad to escape from the milling crowds to compose himself. He was drinking a glass of elderberry wine, deliberating radiating his "Leave me alone" aura, and wondering why he felt more ill at ease than he had at the beginning of this insanity.

It was Filius, he had to admit. Somehow the revelation that Filius Flitwick was Garuda had unsettled him. He liked the elder mage, he could admit that. He had thought of Filius as a mentor, as an even tempered soul willing to give even a Scummy Slytherin the benefit of the doubt. That was an all too rare quality when forced to deal with Dumbledore's noticeable pro-Gryffindor tendencies on a daily basis. But perhaps Severus had put the diminutive mage on too high a pedestal because India's memories had made Severus notice something peculiar. While everyone was oohing and ahhing over his bravery in India, focusing on Filius' truly magnificent wand work as he and Utta had battled against the Nagas, Severus had kept noticing the same emotional response in Filius' memories whenever Filius interacted with a snake.

Filius hated snakes.

Actually, he was _**terrified**_ of snakes, especially cobras.

Severus had once possessed a familiar named Li, an emerald green Liochlorophis vernalis, and he remembered Filius' reaction to when he had first introduced it to the Charms Instructor. He had admired it, Filius had even crooned when he had pet it. Filius' admiring words seemed to be a trifle bit forced, Severus realized upon looking back, and then Filius had quickly left his quarters after he had met Li, claiming that he had forgotten an appointment. It had been an utterly gorgeous specimen of a Smooth Green Snake, and remarkably intelligent. Severus had quite enjoyed her company, often keeping her on his person. Plus, the sight of the Slytherin House Head with his very own emerald snake curled around his neck had made a few of the first years dribble piss down their legs.

Of such little joys was his miserable life made worth enduring.

Filius had often commented on how well trained Li was, but one day, he had asked Severus to stop bringing Li to his quarters.

"Rowena is an eagle, Severus. I'd hate for her prey instinct to take over."

It had been a simple and seemingly rather concerned request, but Filius had seemed… more relaxed the next time Severus sans snake had appeared in his quarters.

Oh yes, Filius had always asked after Li, but he had been quite chuffed never to see her again.

He was thinking deep thoughts when someone asked to speak with him. To his surprise, it was Mohammed Masood, the one-eyed, gray haired Fire Mage from India.

"Would you allow me to look at your wand, Severus?" The Indian asked politely.

Severus thought about the request, and he was uncertain about relinquishing his wand. His wand had, after all, at one time, belonged to Mohammed's father. While he doubted that Masood would declare it a family heirloom and demand it back, Severus was still rather chary about turning his wand over to another mage.

"Do not fear, Severus. I have my own wand. It is made of banyan wood with an inner core of two phoenix feathers. The feathers are from my parent's animagus forms, so I have no desire to acquire another wand. Besides, I do most of my magic wandless."

Severus still said not a word, and then Mohammed looked at his empty left sleeve. He plucked at his unfilled sleeve with his right hand.

"I was originally trained as a left handed mage. After my disastrous battle with Nisha, my badly damaged left arm required amputation. Filius-ji was unsuccessful in his noble attempts to retrain me in using my right hand. I can do the basics with it, but anything requiring finesse? I prefer not to bother with a wand. In fact, many mages in India run out of the room looking for safety when I use a wand. They claim I use my wand like a club; a great deal of raw power with very little control. They fear that I'd accidentally knock Kangchenjunga down. Please, if I actually wanted to bring down Kangchenjunga, it wouldn't be an accident."

The Indian barked a dry laugh at the thought of accidentally knocking down a Himalayan mountain, and he smiled.

"Very well," Severus decided. It would be bad form to refuse, after all. Plus he doubted that Masood was the type to duel with an unarmed mage, as he seemed to be a rather ethical sort of mage. Also, if Masood decided to set him on fire, people would notice, and most likely Minerva would intervene, thinking Severus was attempting to skive off his part in the party.

He carefully presented his wand to Masood, and the mage examined it closely. Mohammed weighed it, and then he closely examined it.

"It is my father's wand," Mohammed cheerfully exclaimed. "I am glad that it has found a new owner. It's a rather odd wand, so I am curious on how you became its Master. Has Filius told you its story?"

"Not really," Severus lied, quickly deciding that telling Masood the simple truth that Filius hadn't told him a damn thing about the wand would probably not be believed. "Why don't you tell me?"

Mohammed gracefully handed the wand back to Severus, and Severus quickly placed it back where he had it hidden. Once again, it wasn't a matter of not trusting the mage, but Severus always felt better when his wand was close by.

"Uttamjodh Singh was remarkable, even for the Sikh mages. As you saw, he was a two wand duelist. There are few that can master that skill, rarer still that can match the level of Utta. Among Utta's many personality quirks was that he was rather footloose. He wandered for a bit, traveling to the various continents, intent on learning as much as he could. In that regard, he was much like Filius-ji," Mohammed explained.

Masood paused, apparently amused by something as he again laughed, and then began to speak again.

"One day, he and Abhinandananatha Jain decided to visit London. Now, Trilochan had already had his vision about a Western Mage, and so he decided it was necessary for him to understand the culture that would produce our Garuda. That extremely dangerous duo ended in your Diagon Alley one day, completely unsupervised, standing in front of your Ollivanders. Utta had a disturbing tendency of shattering wands, so he had learned not to become attached to any one wand. He had heard much of your OIlivander and his skill with wands, and Utta thought he would like to purchase a wand from him."

Severus, through sheer force of will, refrained from interrupting and asking what Mohammed's point was.

"Ollivander presented him with that wand. He thought it would be a good match for our Sant Sipahi. To everyone's surprise, the wand would not work. Trilochan thought it was because Utta had put too much snap in his wrist gesture, and picked up the wand to demonstrate. The two of them argued, much like a married couple, and Utta promised to buy the wand for Trilochan if he could get it to respond to him. To everyone's surprise, the wand suitable for a warrior mage responded for a peaceful Jain."

Mohammed laughed.

"When the odd couple returned to India, they enthralled everyone with the story. Naturally, everyone wanted a demonstration of the wand that would not work for Utta. To Trilochan's utter surprise, it didn't work. Every Instructor in the school attempted to use the wand, and it failed to respond to any of them. Trilochan decided that the wand had simply wanted a trip to India, and he put the wand into storage, figuring that sooner or later, someone would be able to use it. A few years later, much to the surprise of the Instructing Staff, my father Burned, and in the process, burned down several of the greenhouses. He was in need of a wand, and so Trilochan thought to test him. It responded well to him, and in turn, it was passed on to Filius. He used it until he returned to Hogwarts, when the wand, once again, decided it no longer wished to respond. Now, may I ask how you got the wand?"

"My wand broke when I was a student. My family, being quite poor, would have been unable to replace the wand. Filius kindly offered me the use of any of his spare wands. The wand responded to me, and Filius gave it to me," Severus tersely explained.

The Slytherin wasn't about to tell the rather self-possessed mage that Severus had been bullied during his formative years.

"Use it well, Severus, but be forewarned, that wand has a mind of its own," Masood dryly commented. One of the Nepal mages gestured to Masood, and the Indian mage nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Time to speak to Taapasee. She's been trying to convince me to take a sabbatical with their school. All these magic schools drooling over _**my**_ Elemental Mages makes me nervous. Besides that I'll be quite glad when we return back to Seclusion. I keep looking to the sky, as I fear that Jaya's brewing a wind storm. Your Ministry's disrespect of Filius has angered many of us, and some of my fellow Cadre members' self control is in danger of slipping."

"Seclusion?" Severus questioned. "And it's not _**My**_ Ministry. They do whatever the bloody hell they want to do."

"The Cadre has a great deal of negative Karma to ... resolve..." Masood tilted his head, and then sighed. "Not sure if that's the right word. Indira thought it best if the school remained Secluded for a proper period of grieving. We would not have broken it, and rather spectacularly to boot except Indira insisted. For Filius-ji, Indira insisted that India should come out of Seclusion in such a dramatic fashion in order to rattle your Ministry's cage. Indira would have attended also, except she's gotten... fragile... and she claims that my magic's too Rough for her to safely use as a portal. I am of the firmly held opinion that it was quite fortunate that Indira stayed in India. I can easily imagine her challenging that woman in pink to a duel for insulting Filius-ji. Indira would have massacred her, in spite of being nearly a century her senior."

Masood laughed again, and Severus decided to reclassify him from serene, ethical practitioner of magic to a blood thirsty mage who'd bring down a mountain for laughs.

"At your service, Severus, Taapasee is about to strong arm Jaya into taking a position at her school. I need to nip that in the bud as I can't lose my Dueling Instructor."

The Indian mage wandered off, and Severus attempted to collect his thoughts.

He had managed to collect his thoughts when they decided to scatter like leaves in a windstorm.

Minerva was dancing... DANCING... with that entirely too jovial tiger Animagus from India. The Red Headed Bastard had his arm snuggly around Minerva' waist, and they were dancing cheek to cheek. Merlin's bloody knickers twisted and knotted in a bunch, if it was the Yule Ball, and he saw two students dancing like that he'd pour a lake's worth of Ice cold water on them, after taking two hundred points from each student's house. Obviously that damnable mage was charming Minerva's panties off with a witty quip and a merry twinkle in his eyes.

Severus scowled. He had thought better of Minerva!

Didn't any woman care about substance? No, Minerva was like every woman he had known, they all apparently went for the bright, flashy, shallow types.

St. John was just another Gilderoy Lockhart with Weasley colored hair. He was a fop. For Merlin's sake, Nigel _**matched**_ his robes to his _**location**_. Winter white for the Himalayas and dark green for the Quidditch Pitch.

Severus' conscience nagged him.

_Unlike Gilderoy, St. John doesn't run at the first sign of trouble. He's got a Bloody Order of Merlin, FIRST CLASS. How many of those do you have, Sev, my boy? St. John got it when he was sixteen years old for the Kali Massacre, plus that rather noticeable scar in his hairline. He's Senior Deputy Head Master of a very large magic school, not just a Brewer of Potions, and I doubt that Kritika would tolerate a fool in that position. He's funny and amusing, not a bad dancer, did you see that he's an Animagus?_

_**No, I completely failed to notice the TIGER. Was that bloodthirsty beast really our dear, sweet Nigel?**_

_No wonder Minerva is purring. Plus, he's a Gate Master, which means he's got a lot of power._

_**SHUT UP!**_

_Oh look, Yuri's asking for the next dance. Too bad you didn't ask her to save a spot for you on her card. It's quite full by now probably. She'll have to dance with Albus, naturally, and this party for Filius is turning into a real Meat Market. You don't think that Albus and Minerva will rekindle their little fling, do you? Both of them have been drinking, and their inhibitions are lowered. He's a Head Master, Head Thingamabob of this and that, more than a suitable match for her. They seem really quite chummy today._

_**SHUT UP!**_

_Wow! Who would have thought that Minerva could kick her heels up THAT high?  
__**  
NOT LISTENING!**_

_Did you just see a flash of silk stockings just now? And it wasn't tartan colored, was it?_

_**NOT LOOKING!**_

_They were black, Severus! Black, silk stockings! Can you imagine what it would be like to slowly, seductively remove each stocking?_

_**I AM NOT THINKING LIKE THAT! MY THOUGHTS ABOUT HER ARE PURE! IF SHE AND ALBUS DECIDED TO SHAG IN THE MIDDLE OF THE QUIDDITCH PITCH, IT WOULD NOT BOTHER ME AT ALL!**_

_Keep repeating that, you might actually start to believe it! Plus, you're protesting a bit loudly, my boy!_

_**SHUT UP!**_

* * *

Minerva was in fine form, dancing with many a captivating mage. Bright, flashy, cheerful and accomplished mages, all of which dropped the subtle hint that they'd be more than willing to have some personal wand time with her later. Normally, she would have jumped at any of the chances to undo her hair and enjoy some adult time. She did get tired of the never ending adolescent angst that being a teacher at a boarding school entailed. 

She craved Adult conversation. Needed Adult flirtation, oh, bloody hell... she lusted for _**Adult shagging**_.

Yuri was a charming rogue, plus a very good friend of Filius. That was very important in Minerva's mind, as Filius was a good judge of character. The Russian was also surprisingly light on his feet, which promised that bedding him could be... wonderful. Plus he had a nice, deep voice which combined with his exotic accent got her tingly all over. He gave her the subtle signs that implied he was quite interested, and for some unknown reason, she blushed and shook her head. Yuri was quite disappointed, but gave her a suitably chaste kiss on her cheek when they were done dancing.

None of the flashy boys were making her toes curl, she noticed with alarm. No, they made her laugh, caused her to blush, and even caused her to think a few illicit thoughts, especially Mohammed Massod's rather blistering tango, but for some reason Minerva simply was not interested.

Albus caught her eye, smirked, and approvingly nodded. She walked over to him, grabbed a glass of wine for both of them, and duly presented it to him. Albus thanked her, and they then clinked their glasses together.

"I must say with no false modesty, that this party was perhaps one of the most brilliant ideas in a lifetime full of brilliant ideas," Albus insisted, his voice full of pride.

"You're getting old, Albus. I would have thought your _'I told you so'_ would have taken place much earlier in the party," Minerva sniped.

Albus playfully winced, and dryly commented on Minerva savagely wounding him with her rapier wit.

"But seriously, I've been busy reforging old alliances while merrily stepping on a toad," the Hogwarts Head Master slyly insisted. He winked at Minerva, and she merrily laughed.

"With Tanaka?" Minerva sweetly questioned. "You might have problems separating him from his demiguise. The poor thing is still traumatized."

"Perhaps," he sadly admitted, before his grin turned wicked. "Fortunately for Yukiro's sake, Phoenixes and Demiguises get along quite splendidly. Now what about you, Ms. McGonagall? Is there anyone here who has tickled your fancy?"

Minerva playfully sighed, and she shook her head.

"Mohammed Masood? That was a rather explicit tango. I thought you two were about to consummate your passion right then and there," Albus' voice was prim, which was ruined by his twinkling eyes and his lecherous smirk. "His tango technique didn't seem too badly affected by his missing limb."

"Is he missing a limb? I didn't notice," Minerva retorted. "I was too busy tangoing."

"Come on, Minerva, you'll feel better when you admit you're human. Which mage has attracted your interest?"

"Not a one, they're all lovely, but they're like butterflies," admitted Minerva. "Bright, showy, flighty, but… they're not interesting me."

She wouldn't admit that she was becoming more and more fixated on a rather grim, sarcastic git. If Nigel Rhys St. John was the Life of the Party, Severus was most assuredly the Grim Reaper.

They watched the various pairings taking place on and off the dance floor, making highly apt, extremely caustic comments as the various odd couplings demanded, and then Albus softly sighed.

"Be careful with him, Minerva," he quietly requested.

"Who?" Minerva snapped.

Albus was continuing to watch the crowds, apparently enjoying the festivities, but instead, he had decided to involve himself in Minerva's love life.

"He lacks your experience in such pleasant matters as romance, so he may view tonight differently then you do," Albus seriously explained. His blue eyes peered at her over his half moon spectacles, and his eyes were distinctively worried. "He cares a great deal for you, Minerva. The boy's been hurt enough by those he loves, please don't unknowingly add to his pain."

"Albus…" she protested, even as Filius' comment echoed in her head.  
_  
"You could be so good for that boy, Min," Filius softly stated. "And he could be good for you, I believe."_

_"I can see myself teaching him some manners," Minerva said in a snippy tone. "But what could I get out of it? I don't need a new notch on my bedpost."_

_"A man's sincerest belief that his personal sun rises and sets upon you," he retorted._

"I wasn't sure what to make of it at first, when I first saw this development between you two. You probably are quite aware that he's always possessed a powerful crush on you," the maddening Albus explained. "You seemed to have calmed him."

"_**Calmed**_ him?" Minerva burst out cackling, and she blushed when everyone in the immediate area stared at her.

"Do you honestly believe that he'd have worked so hard on this party if you weren't mixed up in it? Say if Pomona was involved?" The Head Master intently questioned.

"He would have worked just as hard," Minerva protested. "This party was for Filius."

"And a wonderful opportunity to prove to someone that the student she once known has grown into a man," Albus retorted.

"And that the Head Master has both of us under his thumb," was her immediate retort.

"That also," he easily admitted. "Ah, Yukiro is rounding up his mages. Seems that even this delightful afternoon must come to a close. It's time to say our goodbyes to our friends, Minerva."

* * *

Severus watched the last of the foreign mages leave Hogwarts. There were a few stragglers who had promised to find their own way home, and Rolanda Hooch, of all people, had apparently decided to lead a merry mad cap tour of London for the various interested foreign mages. She had one arm wrapped around Nigel St. John and she was grinning wildly. He wasn't sure if he pitied St. John or admired him as a crazed Don Quixote. Bedding_** Rolanda**__**Hooch**_? And Septima Vector had apparently tagged and claimed the Crazed Bear Mage of Russia as her personal Teddy Bear. It was always the Arithmancy Instructors that turned out to have an addiction for living their lives on the very edge. 

_**YURI**_?

Was the mage even current on all his shots?

But most importantly, the party was over, with no loss of limbs reported. Thank Merlin.

Filius had his tearful goodbyes with everyone, and now he and Kritika were no doubt merrily skipping toward his quarters where the lusty Indian witch was determined to shag Filius senseless.

Hopefully, she wouldn't kill Filius, as Severus would be quite vexed as he'd be required to help Instruct Charms until they replaced Filius. Plus no doubt Filius' death by sex would be blamed on him, much like anything else that went wrong at Hogwarts was blamed on the Slytherin House.

Six days of rain?

_**Slytherin involvement.**_

Potter falls off his broom during a Quidditch Match because a bunch of Dementors appeared?

_**Slytherin involvement, just because Cornelius Fudge had once Dated a Slytherin.**_

Quirrell?

_**The Hufflepuff had been led astray by a Slytherin temptress.**_

He could gratefully ease back his quiet, contemplative life. There was a pile of Potions magazines that he hadn't been able to enjoy. Who knew what fascinating potions had been discovered during the time he had spent focused on being the Party Planner of Hogwarts? Perhaps Rothschild had successfully refuted that incredible hypothesis that Samson had presented in the previous month's issue of Potions Monthly. The very thought process behind Samson's idea was chock full of crater sized holes, and he eagerly awaited the bloodletting and poisons pens that would occur during the next few issues.

Plus, he had papers to grade. Severus hadn't been quite as savage as he normally had been in the grading process, as he needed to focus on invitations, and important issues that only a Potions Master could handle, e.g. how much stout the party would need.

But no more party planning meant less time with Minerva. They still had their goal to make Dolores Umbridge's life an utter hell, but the Pink Toad seemed rather subdued at the moment. No doubt, she'd lick her wounds and come back with a vengeance. Perhaps, he could suggest a meeting with his fellow anarchist for the following week. He must not appear over anxious to spend time with Minerva.

Yes, perhaps he would take the rest of the day off. Not worry about the magazines that were unread, refuse to see the papers that were unmarked, and instead, he'd take a well earned breather from his life. Perhaps, he would have a nice glass of wine and enjoy a few hours where he had no pressing obligations.

He growled.

Who was he fooling? Severus knew that he'd go to ground in his Dungeon Quarters in order to obsessively review his relationship with Filius. He dare not reclassify it as a friendship until he examined it further. Severus needed to determine why a man, who hated snakes as much as Filius apparently did, actually talked with the Slytherin House Head. While those dark thoughts were percolating in his head, he'd be taunted by memories of Minerva tangoing with that damnable Masood and the knowledge that every damn mage at Hogwarts was getting shagged tonight except for him.

Even a humiliated Dolores would probably look for physical comfort from Filch.

The very thought of Dolores Umbridge in hot pink satin cooing at Argus Filch managed to kill his libido. Thank Merlin, else he'd be tempted to escape from Hogwarts and visit the girls at Sally's Sexcapades.

As he was leaving the Quidditch Pitch, tired but truthfully quite proud of how well the event had turned out, he was surprised when he heard Minerva call his name.

"Where are you heading? You're not taking Rolanda's tour of London?" Minerva gently quipped.

He growled his disgust at that thought. "I've seen London enough. It holds no special allure for me."

"Well, if you're not doing anything, I managed to grab a bottle of whiskey. It's the good stuff," Minerva softly confided before she showed him the label. "Why don't you come to my quarters, and we can toast our successful party?"

Severus paused, debating about the propriety of drinking in Minerva's quarters when the witch glared at him.

"Are you scared of drinking with me? Don't tell me you're an ickle, ickle Hufflepuff at heart?"

"Very well, I'll accept your generous offer of a drink," Severus decided.

Minerva flashed him a wide smile, and she laughed.

"Good, as I'd hate to drink this entire bottle by myself. People might start talking about my drinking problem." Her tone was light.

"So you've decided that by having a Potions Master help you quaff the brew that your reputation will be maintained?" Severus hesitantly teased the witch, and Minerva laughed.

"Yes, we'll be discussing the quality of the liquor. You know the clarity of the liquid, the taste of the drink. Is it the proper temperature? Should I grab some crisps so we don't end up utterly pissed?"

* * *

The boy was brooding about something. She could sense his emotions in the tracer bond, and Minerva hadn't missed the fact that Filius had attempted to talk to Severus several times before the party ended. The Potions Master had easily avoided Filius and Severus' musings had gotten steadily darker. 

Since Severus Snape was her responsibility, Minerva McGonagall decided that it would be best if she took the boy to her bed, tucked him into bed and played hide the snake until the boy was exhausted. Albus' warning echoed in her head, but she had already accepted the fact that this would be no mindless coupling. If she took the Slytherin to her bed, Minerva knew that there would be no turning back.

But she needed to be careful in the seduction of Severus. Minerva knew that it would be far too easy to take the boy by the hand and lead him to her bed. Doing so would put her firmly in the role of teacher, and him the student. For Severus' pride, he needed to make the first move. So she began carefully flirting with him, noticing that his eyes lingered on her stocking clad leg and how he didn't move her hands away when she touched his.

Half a bottle of whiskey later, she and Severus were sitting very closely on her couch, laughing about some stupid thing that had happened at the party. The boy had turned to face her, and he was staring at her. His dark eyes were full of adoration, and he carefully put his fingers on her cheek. The gesture was tentative, and she was surprised when she realized that his shyness was easily the sexiest seduction she had ever experienced.

Oh Merlin, the boy's fingers were shaking.

"Minerva," he whispered. His voice was husky with longing.

"Yes," she whispered.

Severus then leaned close to her, and brushed his lips against hers.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer # 1 - Not my characters. Not at all.

A/N SS has been quite shy and unwilling to perform. And AD wanted to know why everyone else was getting lucky except for him. Selmak hates when the characters talk to her and demand, demand, demand.

* * *

Their lips brushed, and then a very nervous Severus quickly pulled away from Minerva. The witch's eyes were… closed… and her lips were slightly parted… and then a puzzled look appeared on her face when Minerva realized that his lips weren't there. She slowly opened one green eye, and then her other eye opened.

She did not look happy. No, Minerva McGonagall was not chuffed at all.

"My apologies," he whispered. "I'll go. I don't know what came over me."

Far too many glasses of whiskey combined with the intoxicating nearness of Minerva McGonagall his conscience cheerfully decided.

"Like bloody hell you are," the witch growled. She grabbed him by the shoulders of his silk frock coat and pulled him closer to her. Her aggressiveness surprised him.

"You'll rip my coat!" It was an inane protest, and the Transfiguration Teacher immediately released him.

She sighed, sank back into her seat, and Severus noticed that she deliberately crossed her black silk stocking clad legs.

"Severus, I have to admit that I'm a little out of practice here." Minerva confessed. "But I've just done everything except take you by the hand and lead you to my bed. I mean, I've flirted with you, and you seemed… interested. I showed you my legs, and I thought you approved of the girls. I mean, they're not Vector's but I do work on them."

"They're… lovely… and… long…" He stuttered.

Severus mentally flinched. What a truly inane thing to say. But to tell Minerva that he'd like nothing more that go down on her while her legs were wrapped around his shoulders would make him sound like a complete barbaric oaf!

"I've touched you," Minerva whispered, and she put her fingers on his cheek. Severus noticed that Minerva's hands weren't shaking, and that her eyes possessed an almost feral, predatory glint. "I thought I detected a mutual attraction… Perhaps, I misjudged your possible interest due to the whiskey. I'm really quite sorry, Severus as I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Thanks to Filius' party, the two of us have developed a greater appreciation of one another. I'd hate to have ruined our new affinity by being too forward."

"Or maybe you _**are**_ interested," Minerva continued. "But maybe you're remembering Rolanda's comments about me being a hedonist. Yes, I've had a few lovers in my life, Severus, both of the male and female gender, but…they were never drunken gropes, Severus. I've never had a meaningless one night stand."

No doubt he was staring at her like a poleaxed first year, but Minerva didn't mention it. Instead, Minerva shook her head. Then with a careless motion, Minerva took down her hair, intently removing all her hairpins, as she prepared for bed. She combed through her long hair with her fingers, and then he found his hands in her long, glorious hair. He was hungrily kissing her, and wonders of wonders, Minerva was kissing him back.

He vaguely remembered picking her up from the couch and carrying her to her bedroom. It was a foolish, romantic gesture, but it was all that kept Severus from panicking as he all too clearly remembered what Albus had told a scared young man all those years ago.

_"It would be so different if the woman you bedded was the one for which you cared, Severus."_

* * *

Filius blushed, and he quickly took a sip of wine. He had often known when Severus was busy servicing the various bordellos of Knockturn Alley, but the boy was being so damn noisy!

_**Look lad, I'm delighted that you and Min are finally getting lucky, but could you two please be a little quieter? I want to concentrate on my own lewd thoughts right now, and your loud thoughts about a witch with black silk stocking clad legs is distracting me from a certain scarlet and black silk covered witch. **_

"You're blushing," the black and scarlet clad Kritika quietly murmured. She was sitting on the floor so that they were eye to eye. "Are you shy, Filius? I never would have guessed. Indira never mentioned that particular characteristic to me. She called you… audacious and intrepid."

Now his cheeks were truly burning.

Indira!

Telling tall tales out of school!

He and Indira had become lovers after the Kali Massacre, intensely bonding because of their mutual grief and despair. Their affair hadn't lasted for long, but it had kept both of them sane during that horrible time. But damn it, a man deserved some secrets. He had some pride!

"Mohammed is supposedly quite bashful also," Kritika easily commented. "But I believe that our Mohammed is shamming. It's a quite well know fact that that self-assured woman like reticent men, so I believe that Masood does it deliberately, as he's quite the flirt. There's just something about the mystery…"

"The only mystery that I'm concerned with right now is exactly how much fabric you're wearing," Filius retorted. "To hell with Mohammed's alleged bashfulness…"

"Nine meters," Kritika quickly answered.

"_**Nine**_ meters?" Filius repeated.

"Plus a petiicoat and a choli," she admitted. Her dark eyes were smoldering, and she wore a wicked smile. "It could be a very long night, Filius."

"I'm hoping that it is," he retorted. "I'm always careful about unwrapping presents."

"Do I get to be the instructor now, Filius?" Kritika teasingly questioned in a very sultry voice. "I've been told that I'm a very demanding instructor."

Filius grinned and nodded.

"When a woman, clinging to a man as a creeper twines round a tree, bends his head down to hers with the desire of kissing him and slightly makes the sound of sut sut, embraces him, and looks lovingly towards him, it is called the 'twining of a creeper'," Kirtika softly explained.

"You're a lot taller than I am, love," Filius reminded her. The witch was slightly under two meters tall, and well... Filius had a smidgeon of goblin blood running in his veins.

"Mallanaga Vātsyāyana lived in the Gupta period, some fifteen hundred years ago. Do you really believe that if that Kama Sutra wasn't modifiable, it would still be part of our curriculum?"

"I never knew it was taught at your school!" Filius laughed.

"Noor Masood was the instructor when you were there," Kritika admitted. "She was responsible for teaching Literature after all."

"Noor? Sweet, _**innocent **_Noor?" gasped a shocked Filius.

She moved toward him, and wrapped herself around him. "She and Shalini believed it best not to inform you as you seemed so prim and proper. Utta, Indira and Trilochan, naturally, thought you should be given your own personal copy so you could fully experience India. Ibrahim agreed with Noor, but he was rather overprotective of Noor. "

Kritika bent his head down to hers, and the witch made a slight noise. It wasn't quite a purr, more like a humming.

"That's what a sut sut sounds like?" Filius quipped.

Her dark eyes narrowed, and the look she bestowed on him could not be described as anything close to 'loving'.

"Mr. Flitwick, you're in danger of failing the course," she snapped.

* * *

In his personal quarters, Albus Dumbledore handed Tanaka Yukiro a glass of plum wine. He then toasted Yukiro with his own glass and they both took a long, leisurely sip.

"Wonderful vintage," Albus stated softly after he swallowed his sip.

"Better company," Tanaka easily answered. "We really need to chat face to face more than one every decade or so, Albus."

"Agreed. How is Amenoudume recovering from her ordeal?" Albus questioned.

Yukiro glanced at a chair, where a blanket was seemingly resting on nothing visible to the human eye. The brightly colored blanket rose and fell slowly as though something invisible was sleeping.

"Udume is quite vexed with me for sending her here, but right now she's sleeping. I wasn't expecting the Nepal group to send a snow leopard as their embassy, and I had no one else to send. Taapasee assured me that Tara wouldn't snack on Udume, but poor Udume was frightened near to death. Once again, I give my thanks to your Magical Creatures instructor as she nursed Udume back to health."

There was a sound from the doorway, and Albus announced, "I have company. It's my brother."

"I'm wearing a yukata so I'm not really dressed for company," Tanaka confessed. "Do you want me to hide? Or is your brother open minded about your somewhat odd relationships?"

"My brother has a fondness for goats," Albus easily confessed. His acknowledgment of that foible earned a bark of laughter from the usually poised Tanaka. "He likes them better than he likes me, and I'm his only living relative, Yukiro. The fact that he's coming here to Hogwarts means that he wants to discuss something with me. Forgive me, but would you mind hiding in the bedroom?"

"No problem," Yukiro easily agreed. "I'll take Udume with me. If you don't mind, grab my glass and put it in your bedroom. Else your brother may think you have a drinking problem as you've got one bottle and two glasses."

The Japanese mage safely hidden away in his bedroom, Albus waited for Aberforth. His brother arrived, and then looked around the room.

"Anyone here that can overhear our conversation?" Aberforth gruffly questioned.

Albus made a quick gesture, ensuring that the two Dumbledore brothers could not be overheard.

At Albus' nod, Aberforth spoke quickly. "It's that Potter boy. Some of your students are thinking that it might be a fine idea to create "Dumbledore's Army" and have that Potter boy teach them defense."

"How do you know this?" Albus questioned, keeping his voice composed.

"He might be the most powerful wizard to ever cast a spell, but he doesn't know a Merlin blasted thing about how to run a clandestine undercover group. They met in the Hog's Head, Albus. I'm sure everyone will know by morning," Aberforth explained. "Using **_children_**, Albus?"

"No, I had nothing to do with this," Albus insisted. "If I did, I wouldn't let them meet in Hog's Head. The bartender is a rather dodgy soul."

"He's an old goat," Aberforth retorted. "Time for me to be off and you need to pay some attention to that Japanese mage of yours who is hiding in your bedroom."

* * *

He had made love.

With Minerva McGonagall.

Several times.

He had devotedly worshiped every damn curve, thoroughly examined every square centimeter and had adoringly kissed every single freckle the witch possessed until they were both too sated and exhausted to do much more than cover themselves with a blanket.

Bliss didn't even begin to describe the experience.

To experience physical _**love**_with a woman who actually desired him, who wasn't counting the minutes until their session ended so she could hastily collect the money on the table?

Now the big question facing Severus was… What next?

Should he stay?

Yes, Severus wanted nothing more than to stay exactly where he was, cuddled next to a sleeping  
Minerva. She was resting her head on his shoulder, and his arm was protectively sheltering her.

Should he sneak out?

Maybe that would be a good idea. Minerva would most likely come to her senses and there would be an awkward scene in the morning when she woke to discover him in her bed. Perhaps, he should slip away. But then again, she might be furious that he was treating her like a whore.

Merlin's pants. He wasn't sure what his association with Filius truly was, and now he was trying to determine how tonight's lovely activities affected his tenuous relationship with Minerva.

"If you even think of leaving," Minerva whispered in his ear. "I'll hunt you down and hex you in an extremely embarrassing and exceeding painful way. Then I'll frogmarch you back to my bed, securely restrain you to my bedposts and have my way with you until you apologize for cowardly sneaking out. Then I'll shag you some more until I'm convinced that your apology is sincere."

Minerva then nipped him on his ear, and then she snuggled closer to him.

The decision made for him, Severus gratefully closed his eyes.

* * *

Severus seemed close to slumber, and Minerva was utterly wide awake. She needed to ponder about the night's events and make a decision on how to proceed. Well, it wasn't to be a one night stand, even before they had shagged, but… now… now… she needed to handle Severus with a deft touch.

First things first, she needed to stretch after such a thorough shagging. After a nice, languorous stretch, Minerva snuggled closer to Severus.

Now, she had to think. Merlin's bloody knickers, she hadn't been shagged like that … since… Bryce.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember how Bryce had looked. How he had laughed. But it was all a blur, he had dark hair, she remembered, and did he have dark eyes like Severus? Yes, he had dark eyes, and pale skin. He was tall… though he seemed taller then he was as Bryce had ramrod straight posture.

Her fiancé Bryce had been her first lover, and they had learned so much from each other. How to touch and how to love. Merlin's beard, she had loved Bryce so much, and part of her had died when he had. They were to be married, had discussed having children, how many they would have, what to name them, and then He Who Must Be Named had changed all that.

And so she had changed after she had buried Bryce Kinnear. Minerva had hardened her heart and refused to love again. Her couplings since had always had the same modus operandi. She'd meet someone, someone who desired physical closeness, but not true emotional intimacy because of their own wounds. Merlin knew that she had enough notches on her bed post to classify her as an expert, and some of her lovers had been extremely accomplished in their sexual techniques, but it was different…. to be touched in love.

_They were mortaring and pestling slowly. Severus had turned his face away from her, and he was whispering under his breath. He'd speed up, take her nearly to the brink and then he'd slow the pace down, cool her down, cover her face with kisses and then repeat the process._

_If Severus continued to tease her like this, she might kill him, she thought._

_What the hell was he whispering? Minerva turned slightly, trying to hear what he was saying.  
_

"_Aconite, Acromantula veno, armadillo bile, Ashwinder eggs, Asphodel, bezoar, belladonna, bicorn parts, Billywig parts…" Severus whispered._

_He was reciting potion ingredients! Every time he 'pestled', he called out a Potion ingredient! Was he making a shopping list while he shagged her?_

_By the time, Severus got to Zhi Mi, a Chinese herb that Minerva vaguely remembered as used in some of Poppy's medications, Severus was panting, and his thrusts had speeded up considerably. Her lover covered her face and her neck with kisses, even dared to nip her gently on her neck, and then, he deliberately cooled her down._

_"Aconite," he whispered, as he deliberately slowed the pace down. "Acromantula veno…"_

_"Severus, if you're planning on reciting the complete glossary from "__Moste Potente Potions" one more time, I will be forced to kill you," Minerva snapped. _

"_Not yet," he gasped. "Not yet… too soon… for you... Want it to …. Be… perfect…for you… Min…."_

_She pulled him closer to him, wrapped her arms around him, shifting his weight so his long, lean form was at last, covering her completely._

_"Look at me," she commanded. "I want you to look at me. I want to look into your eyes when you finally get to Zhi Mi!"_

_And so she was staring into Severus' eyes when he climaxed. Her poor, lonely Slytherin, so indoctrinated in the need to hide his emotions from everyone, at that single, unguarded moment, had inadvertently revealed then how much he loved her. _

_The eyes never lied.  
_

Her green eyes filled with tears, and Minerva tried to wipe them away. Last thing she wanted was Severus to see her weeping.

Merlin's knickers, after all these years, she was still mourning Bryce? Or was Minerva regretting all the choices she had made in her life, which had ensured that she'd die a lonely old spinster?

To her surprise, Severus pulled her closer, and wrapped his arm around her. That gentle, caring gesture completely undid her composure, and she started to uncontrollably weep.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer # 1 - Not my characters.

Disclaimer # 2 - this is a rather short chapter.

* * *

His lover was weeping. In fact, she was sobbing so hard that her nose was red, her green eyes blood shot, and she was even making a hiccupping noise while she wept. Severus had plenty of first hand experience with many a woman that had wept after they had sex, but this crying woman was Minerva. 

Minerva McGonagall.

Weeping.

In all his long, lonely life, he had been abused, cursed, ridiculed, mocked and scorned, and he had learned to drink it all in, relishing in other people's despite. Let others malign him, Severus Tobias Snape would stand ramrod straight and take their abuse like a man.

Not now, now he felt like a little boy begging his father not to put him in the dark closet.

_I'll be good! I'll try harder! I'll be better! I swear! Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it!_

Hesitantly, uncertain of how she'd react, Severus had embraced her, and his foul touch had made his lover sob still harder. Devastated by her intense reaction, a crushed Severus mutely held her until her tears had slowed and she had fallen asleep. Then carefully, he had disengaged himself from her arms, ignoring her soft moan of protest, and he left her bed, grabbing his clothes from the chair by her bed.

He couldn't leave by her front portrait, as he certainly couldn't face the piercing, knowing eyes of Godric Gryffindor at this painful moment. Flooing was out of the question as Umbridge was watching the floos. That left… his eyes searched the room, looking for a way to escape. Immediately, Severus noticed the only available egress.

_**The window**_.

The window?

The window!

The bloody, stinking window!

After quickly getting dressed, Severus had still found no other means of escaping from Minerva's room. He opened the window carefully, so it didn't squeak. It was only the first floor, so it wasn't that big a drop in his professional opinion. Fortunately, Severus had a head for heights, so when he peered out the window to estimate the drop, the sick feeling in his gut was from how spectacularly everything had gone to hell, not from the height.

Bloody, bloody hell. He had cocked everything up

How to handle the situation? Getting the hell out of her room before she woke so he could escape with his pride and various important bits intact was extremely important, but… Severus was so confused. He needed someone with plenty of experience with the fairer sex to tell him in simple terms what he had done wrong.

Hadn't Severus given her intense satisfaction? Didn't the witch claw his back and leave him bleeding? Hadn't he nearly ruptured every internal organ he owned in his attempt to delay himself? Merlin's bloody, gouty big toe, didn't Minerva catch him reciting the glossary from Moste Potente Potions? Had the witch not screamed out his name?_**REPEATEDLY**_?

What Severus immediately needed for his emergency perusal was the _**Handbook to Understanding Minerva McGonagall**_. It would have small, monosyllabic words, six letters or less, perhaps several diagrams to a page and a helpful glossary tacked on at the end. The Handbook would be able to explain in simple terms, suitable for a complete dunderhead like himself, how he had cocked everything up.

But alas, the _**Handbook to Minerva McGonagall **_was out of print.

Maybe, he could ask a former lover of Minerva to explain Minerva to him.

Albus?

Merlin's scrote, there would be no way he'd ask Albus for advice on Minerva. Albus would offer him a sweet and his blue eyes would be twinkling while Severus squirmed like a student caught misbehaving. Worst part of it would be the utter humiliation of Albus knowing how desperately he wanted tonight, and how bad the reality had been. The sympathetic Head Master would attempt to stuff him full of sweets to console him, so the end result would be that Severus would be utterly heartbroken and pudgy to boot.

_**Filius!**_

_**Filius Flitwick. **_

The Charms Master was discretion personified, as rumors had it that he shagged every female that so much as breathed, and he was still on good terms with all his former lovers. Merlin knew that Flitwick had all but admitted that he had shagged most of the females at his Birthday party at one time or another.

_**Filius.**_

Who hated snakes, and who had been dealing with the Head of Slytherin House for the last dozen years. In all that time, Filius had never mentioned the simple, little, completely unimportant fact that he was terrified of snakes. Well, that little revelation of Filius' severe Ophidiophobia left Severus firmly on his own, which meant that Nobby No Mate, Clueless Charlie would flounder through this emotional mess, and make it even worse.

Well, maybe Minerva would accept his sincere apology for upsetting her. He wouldn't wake her, but he'd leave a token that the Scot might accept as an act of contrition. But what?

What would Filius do?

Flowers?

Women loved flowers!

When he was young, he had often nicked flowers from the fancy ornamental gardens from the homes of the well to dos, and had shyly presented them to Lily or her Mum. Never to his Mum, as the only time he had given her some for her birthday had earned him a quick flick of her wand for being a no good thief.

Flowers!

Bloody hell, Severus didn't need to nick them anymore, he was a wizard! He could make flowers! Merlin's tattered pants, he could make her an entire florist' shop worth! He took his cravat, and he gestured at it, murmuring half remembered words from a class almost a lifetime ago. The cravat shimmered slightly, and in his hand, there was a single rose.

In Slytherin colors naturally, thanks to the Goddess of the Perverse, who had apparently decided that Severus Snape, the Greasy Git of the Dungeon, should not be allowed the slightest bit of happiness.

Emerald green leaves. Obsidian black stem and Merlin kick him in the arse and turn him into a polka dotted phoenix, SILVER petals. _**SILVER**_!

Who the bloody hell had ever bloody heard of a bloody rose with BLOODY SILVER PETALS?

Severus whispered a few more spells, but the rose refused to change to more suitable colors. Perhaps, dare he might hope for Scarlet for Gryffindor? Yellow for a sincere apology… no… it stubbornly remained SILVER….Yes, it was a lovely, beautiful Slytherin colored rose for the head of Gryffindor House.

What to do? What to do!

Oh bloody hell, he needed to leave the scene of the crime immediately, and the last thing Severus desired to do was to plummet to the Earth, clutching a silver rose in his hand. The way his night was going, he'd end up with various Slytherin bits splattered all over the ground, with the silver rose still clenched in his shattered hand. Stealthily, he snuck into her bedroom, tossed the rose onto her bed and then ran like hell for the window.

Severus wasn't Gryffindor, after all, full of courage and bravery to the point of foolhardiness. Slytherins knew how best to save their arse, and right now, a strategic retreat was in order, the faster the better. He opened Minerva's window, and stepped out the window, silently casting a spell he had created. Never did he think he'd use it in order to escape from a love affair that had gotten bin-bagged almost immediately.

No, once he had dreamed of flying in the skies with Lily.

The wind caught his robes, and he gently sailed to the ground. With a soft thud, he landed on his feet in front of the Gates of Hogwarts.

It was now time to retreat to his lair, lick his bloody wounds, and get absolutely positively pissed.

* * *

Minerva snuggled under the covers, expecting to feel the warmth of Severus' body next to hers. She had a horrible shameful bout of weeping, but Severus had held her tightly, gently stroking her back while she had cried herself to sleep. He had left the bed, but she had whispered to him not to leave, that she was being a silly old bint and that she'd make it up to him. The Slytherin had returned to her bedroom, and Minerva had fallen back asleep. 

His side of the bed was cold, and she stretched her hand, searching for Severus. Minerva planned on making up for her shameful behavior in a most delightful and extremely thorough way involving lots and lots of shagging.

Her questing fingers were pricked, and she opened her eyes to discover that it wasn't her prickly Severus, but instead, a rose on his pillow.

Not just any rose, but a Slytherin colored rose.

"Severus?" She called out, attempting to keep her voice sweet. Last thing she needed to do in the current situation was shriek like a harpy if Severus was still in her quarters, but she had a very bad feeling that her rather over emotional response to their shagging had ballsed everything up.

No answer.

"Sev?" Minerva called once more.

She pulled the sheet off the bed, and wrapped it around herself, before she entered her living room. Time was of the essence in order to head off an emotional catastrophe of epic proportions and she didn't have time to get dressed.

"Severus? Godric? Did you see Severus leave?" Minerva urgently questioned.

"No, Minerva, the Slytherin didn't leave this way," Godric answered.

"Severus, his name is **SEVERUS**," Minerva snapped.

Yes, Godric was one of the original Hogwarts Founders but he had a bit of a stick up his arse regarding Slytherins thanks to Salazar. Godric had every right in the world, and then some, to be royally irked with Salazar, but she'd give him the rough side of her tongue if he couldn't learn to be nice to her guests.

Her sheet began to slip, and she quickly spelled it to stick. For her brief flash of skin, Minerva was rewarded with a wolf whistle from one of the appreciative portraits in her room, and she glared at Roland Arnold. .

"I can put you in the fireplace easily, Roland, and replace you with a nice water color." she warned the misbehaving portrait, who had the grace to look embarrassed. "Perhaps a seascape?"

"Your guest jumped out the window around two in the morning," offered a female voice.

"Jumped out the window? You didn't think to inform me?" Minerva gasped. She ran toward the window that was still slightly ajar, and she peered out the window, making sure that the sheet was securely wrapped around her body. It certainly would do her reputation no good among her students, if they saw her running around wearing nothing but a sheet, but for them to see her naked?

The scandal!

"It's not **_normal _**for men to jump out my window!"

"You were sleeping, Minerva. I didn't want to wake you, besides I thought he was slipping out of your room undetected. So _**romantic**_," the portrait swooned.

Sometimes the best answer to the romantic musings of Katora Higgns was to say nothing. Besides, Minerva needed to keep her attention firmly on finding out if there were any spare bits of Severus on the ground.

Jumping out her window to avoid facing a crying woman? What a Gryffindor way of handling the situation!

There was no sign of a splattered mage, so she figured that Severus had safely landed. Else the prideful boy had managed to drag his broken, bloody body away to the safety of the dungeon, no doubt casting a plethora of spells to hide his bloody passage. Either way, an emotionally and quite possibly, a physically shattered Severus had decided the best course of action was to run.

She sank to her sofa, and Minerva put her hands on her head.

"Merlin's bloody arse, I've just screwed everything up."


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer #1 - not my characters. not for profit, just for enjoyment.

* * *

The wounded, dark monster crept back to his lair, limping slightly, because the sinister fiend had managed to balls up his landing, and twist his left knee. Merlin's bloody beard, twisted in knots, it was barely a six meter drop. He had easily done that distance when he was a student. But it was just his luck that his landing had gone all pear-shaped as his foot had landed on someone's discarded goodie bag from Honeydukes' Sweetshop. Instead of a graceful arrival on Terra Firma, he had nearly gone arse over tit when he had slipped on the damnable confectionery bag. 

Snape grabbed the discarded bag, and in spite of being a Hogwart's Professor, and being far beyond such childish things, he hexed any Hogwarts student who ever had the singular misfortune to have touched the bright pink bag. They'd be vomiting up their sweets shortly and a strategic location would be covered in painful boils that would not let them rest their feverish bones in comfort.

His hex was quite wicked, Severus admitted, but it was quite satisfying in a very emotionally immature way. Plus it was such a subtle bit of casting that the illness could be easily blamed on the dodgy treats of the Dangerous Duo with Only One Brain Twixt the Two of Them, Weasley and Weasley. Though with his luck, it would be one of his delinquents that had littered, and he'd be forced to deal with a dorm full of whiny, puking brats.

For the moment, it mattered not at all. Snape had more pressing issues with which to deal.

Should he show up at breakfast and act like nothing happened?

Or should he skip breakfast and go to ground instead?

While the second option held a great deal of personal appeal to him, the realization that Minerva would instantly know that she had won the war in their little falling-out horrified his Slytherin Pride. Therefore, Severus would show up for breakfast, bright and chipper, and act like nothing had happen twixt the two of them. He'd be professionalism personified, which would cause Minerva to gnaw on her liver.

No doubt, the witch wanted him to slither on his belly like a snake, and beg clarification on what he had done to upset her. No, he would not crawl. He'd walk _**proudly**_ into the Great Hall, wearing a plain, sensible, completely non-silk, non brocaded jacket, a respectable black cravat, his posture ramrod straight and his black capes billowing behind him. Severus Tobias Snape would be a Force to be Feared and Respected!

He would refuse to be mocked by Minerva and the rest of the Hogwarts Hens!

Yes, that attitude would work quite nicely, except for one particular issue of which his particularly painful knee was dutifully reminding him. Oh bloody, bloody hell. He hadn't torn a ligament had he?

* * *

"When the woman is tired, she should place her forehead on that of her lover, and should thus take rest without disturbing the union, and when the woman has rested herself the man should turn round and begin the congress again," Kritika whispered to Filius in a very sultry whisper. 

She placed her forehead on his, and she sighed. The sound was a very contented, languid moan.

"Rest, dear," Filius suggested. He gently brushed her long hair out of her eyes. "I want you to quickly regain your strength."

"We need to talk, and we needed to do so in private," Kritika whispered. "Since we've had our pleasure, now I must talk of unpleasant matters. They've removed Albus from Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards. They say that he's gone quite mad; what with his talk of the return of The One Who is Supposedly Dead. What is your opinion on this?"

"Albus is right," Filius shivered. "I've been dreaming of India lately, Trilochan in particular. Sometimes, the Masoods are in my dreams, and so is Utta. The dreams consist of Trilochan and I having a spot of tea, and he insists on reading my tea leaves. Utta is usually cleaning his multitude of wands, oiling and adjusting them, as though he's preparing for battle. The four of them never say anything, but I feel as though they are warning me that another earth-shattering battle is nigh."

"Your dreams have the taste of portent. Filius-ji, do you understand how we in the Eastern World view Time?" Kritika intently questioned.

"I know the basics. There is a literal Wheel of Time. You believe in cyclical Time, while we Brits believe that Time is linear." Filius stated, and then his bright eyes narrowed. "I must confess that I failed to realize that there are certain staggering similarities between Nisha and…He Who Must Not Be Named. But a cycle? That could explain Nisha… Grindlewald…Oh my…It's inescapable then, isn't it? We're constantly doomed to face a horrific foe."

"Will you fight when the battle is waged?" Kritika softly questioned. Her dark eyes seemed to know what his answer would be.

"Yes," Filius firmly asserted. "There is no other option. I have struggled before, I will fight now, and I will battle again."

"Our debt to you is still unpaid, which is part of the reason why we are still in Seclusion. When the war comes, as the Seer of India predicted it will, call on us. We will fight against the Nāga, and then our debt to you will be paid in full. I can not promise you a full complement of mages, but I will request volunteers for a strike team. I know Masood will fight, and the Sikhs will most assuredly volunteer. Jaya has been ever vigilant in training the students."

"You and your school have no obligation to me," Filius protested.

"Trilochan charged me otherwise," the Indian Head Mistress calmly stated. "Sometimes I feel trapped by him, as his foretelling has molded my life since before I was born. Other times I believe that I owe him a great deal of gratitude. There are some excellent benefits to fulfilling prophecies."

She leaned toward him and placed the nail of her index finger on his lower lip. The sensual feeling made the hair on his arms stand at attention.

"When a person presses the lower lip so softly that no scratch or mark is left, but only the hair on the body becomes erect from the touch of the nails, it is called a 'a pressing with the nails'." Kritika explained.

"Rested already, love?" Filius questioned in a teasing tone. "Now, please tell me, was tonight prophesied? I need to know what Trilochan stated about my sexual performance. Am I a hare, bull or horse? Do I pass my exam?"

"Never did Trilochan discuss this personal matter with me," Kritika sternly admitted. Her fierce demeanor was utterly ruined by her laughing dark eyes. "Trilochan tried to keep his foretelling suitable for impressionable students. As for passing your exam, you still have a great deal of coursework to cover! If we continue to chat, you will never finish!"

Kritika laughed merrily, and Filius sighed. It was quite likely that tomorrow would find him quite utterly lifeless from an Overdose of Sexual Ecstasy, but what a way to die.

* * *

Minerva had a rather extensive library, full of numerous esoteric and arcane volumes, but no matter how hard she rummaged through it, there was no helpful tome on how to handle the prickly, scarred Severus Snape. For good measure, she even hurriedly perused the various Agony Aunt columns of the Daily Prophet. "Ask Agatha" and "Dear Delphine" were both quiet on that particular topic also. 

_I cried on the morning after, like a freshly deflowered maiden, full of sadness and regret.  
_  
Instinctively, Minerva desired to channel her inner Boudica. Her bold nature demanded that she face Severus immediately and confess that the situation was completely her fault because she was a silly bint. Then, when the boy naturally decided to shower her with sarcasm, she'd hex him, paralyze him and then ravage him repeatedly until Severus accepted her sincere apology.

Merlin's toe rag, she sounded like a bad porn book.

Minerva also knew that her impulse was the worst possible approach to handling Severus. This situation demanded a way to let the Slytherin keep his pride. Screaming in the middle of the Great Hall, "It's completely my fault. I utterly bullocks it up!" would accomplish that noble goal in a matter of moments, but Minerva wanted to keep her own dignity intact….if at all possible.

Well, she'd have to follow his lead on how he wanted to handle it. First of all, Minerva would need to apologize.

Merlin's black and blue big toe, she had to sit next to him for breakfast.  
_  
Damn, damn, damn._

She was still flagellating herself for her loss of composure when one of her students Floo called and requested that she report to the dorm. It appeared that was a plague spreading like wild fire among the Gryffindor House. Vomiting, fevers and boils, and Minerva knew that there was most likely a red head and his twin involved somehow, somewhere.

* * *

It was a rather weary Minerva McGonagall that made her appearance for breakfast. An even dozen Gryffindor students had taken ill in a spontaneous wildfire of an epidemic that had left Poppy completely perplexed at the possible cause and the Weasley twins loudly proclaiming their innocence. She knew those red-headed trouble makers quite well after teaching them for so many years, and she had to uneasily admit that their protestations of innocence held the ring of truth. But fevers? Boils? Vomiting? Wasn't that in the Skiving Snackbox? Perhaps someone had overdosed on their still experimental merchandise? 

"It's a hex," Poppy admitted. "As those boils are too big to be natural. The onset of fever? It's deliberate!"

The dozen sad sacks were still in the Infirmary, waiting for their symptoms to disappear. Minerva knew that she'd have to investigate the situation to determine how the students had come in contact with such a contagion. Yes, they had all gone to Hogsmeade for the weekend and they had hit Honeydukes, The Three Broomsticks and a dozen other stores. She had left messages for all the House Heads warning them of the symptoms and to check their students, but to her complete lack of surprise, only Pomona had responded. Severus had gone to ground and Filius was busy shagging the night away.

To her astonishment, when she entered the Great Hall, that it was chocked full of various foreign mages that had 'stayed for breakfast'. There were a few extra tables added, and the adult mages were still quite rowdy from the night before, much to the annoyance of Dolores. Upon Minerva's arrival at the Staff Table, Severus stood up and held out her chair for her. It was a thoughtful, polite gesture that he often did for her, and she hoped that Severus had decided to forgive her embarrassing outburst. Then Severus proceeded to deliberately shun her for the remainder of the meal, and instead the wizard concentrated on making polite chit chat regarding various Japanese Potion Masters with Tanaka Yukiro. The rather bleary eyed Russian Bear Mage was sitting next to Tanaka, and he seemed to delight in scaring Dolores Umbridge with his various idiosyncrasies.

His meal completed, Severus disappeared almost immediately, and she caught the glimpse of his billowing black robe as he strode from the room.

"That was a brill party, Min," Rolanda assured her as Min attempted to make her own escape from the chaos in the Great Hall. The Flying Instructor appeared completely refreshed as if she had a full night's sleep, even though there was no doubt in Minerva's mind that Rolanda had been shagged to within a centimeter of her life. She had that distinctive glow about her. "I see that Filius has failed to make an appearance for brekkie. Should I ask Albus about the need to send Poppy to Filius' quarters to see if he's still alive? He may need medical attention. Filius could be maimed or close to death from sexual exhaustion."

"Ro," Minerva tartly protested. "Please!"

"I'm only teasing, Min. I swear, you should have grabbed someone and had yourself a jolly fling last night." Rolanda nodded her head in approval of her sage advice. "That would have put a smile on your face. You look like you spent the night sucking lemons, Min!"

"I did have a shag last night," Minerva admitted. "It didn't go well."

"What happened? I'll hex him…. Her… it…" Rolanda dramatically insisted, as she waved her wand.

For Min's own security, plus everyone else's safety, Minerva grabbed Ro's wand and pointed it down toward the floor. The witch meant well, but Ro would cast first, and think later, after everything had gone pear-shaped.

"Ro, I got weepy," Min sadly admitted. She quickly saw the look in Ro's eyes, and knew what the wench was thinking. Her mind was always in the gutter! "No, the sex wasn't that bad. In fact, the shagging was first-rate and in fact, quite stellar. I just thought of Bryce…"

"Bryce?" Rolanda stated softly, her hawklike eyes softening with tears. She and Bryce had been quite close. "Oh, Minnie."

"Don't call me Minnie," snapped Minerva, though her anger about Ro using her nickname was misplaced, and in fact it was directed firmly towards herself. "I thought of Bryce, got all weepy like a ninny, and he left in a huff. Men's egos are so fragile. He would have stayed if he believed that my tears were ones of ecstasy."

She rubbed her eyes, realizing that she was this close to weeping in the Great Hall, in front of the students, no less, and Rolanda grabbed her by her arm. "Come on, love. Come to my quarters, and we'll have a drink. It's early, but you look like you need a finger or two of whiskey."

_I'm turning into a bloody alcoholic_, she mentally wailed, but she found herself willingly following Rolanda to her quarters.

* * *

"It's time for me to return to the school, as my other instructors have long since returned. Indira will be most fierce with me for overstaying my welcome. Occasionally I believe that she deliberately forgets that I am no longer a student and she isn't the Head Mistress," Kritika easily admitted. "But I can assure you that you passed your exams with flying colors. You've brought additional honor to Hogwarts, Filius-ji." 

She kissed Filius, and the Charms Instructor leaned into the kiss. After a serious bout of snogging that nearly left him breathless, they broke apart.

"Fare you well, Filius-ji," she quietly stated. "Keep in touch please. If there is anything we can ever do for you, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Are you returning by portal?" Filius questioned.

"I'm stretching my wings first, as I rarely get the chance to fly since I became Head Mistress. Masood's agreed to humor my longing to fly. I'll make a very dramatic exit so your fellow Instructors will marvel about mild-mannered Filius Flitwick taming a wild witch." Again Kritika laughed, and then she turned somber. "Indira would like to see you again before it is her time."

"I know," he softly admitted. "And you anxiously wish to show off your new school to me. It looks very impressive from what I saw. I can't go just yet. Perhaps, in time."

"That's Indira's belief, but I'm sure you'll return for a short visit." Her voice was strong in her conviction.

"Another one of Trilochan's prophecies? I deal with our Divinity Instructor on a daily basis, and I wonder what Trilochan would think of her. No doubt Trilochan would be horrified by her." Filius admitted with a dry laugh. "She's a drinker, and she's constantly predicting that we are in great danger."

"We are, Filius. Living is a very great danger," she admitted. "And now, I must go. Do you wish to see me Transform?"

"Are you jumping over the railing and Transforming in mid-air?" Filius shuddered dramatically. "What is it with India? I don't remember this strange desire to show off your animagus abilities when I taught there. I actually believed that you were rather reserved which is why you had such difficulties with your Transformation."

She laughed once more, and then she took her leave. It was with a sad heart lightened by fond memories that Filius watch the Indian witch take her leave of Hogwarts.

* * *

Damnable Minerva had appeared so calm, cool and collected at brekkie, that he had quite forgotten his plan to treat her like it was a normal day. No, after quickly examining her face for some clue to her rather perplexing behavior last night and failing, he decided it would be best to have a long chat with Yukiro regarding various Japanese Potion Masters. He wasn't deliberately ignoring Minerva; he was actually picking Tanaka's brain on several exciting new advances in Potion Making that he had recently read in Japanese Brewers Monthly. It had been fascinating reading material and Tanaka was quite willing to expand in great deal on the periodical's articles. Tanaka knew how to bubble a cauldron, and it was a true delight to speak to a practitioner with some skill and appreciation for the subtle art of potion making. Much to Severus' perpetual resentment, too many people still thought of Potions as merely glorified cooking! 

When the Slytherin was done with his brekkie, he quickly left, claiming that he had a previous engagement. It took considerate exertion, but he was able to walk out of the Great Hall with his usual swagger. The minute he left the room, Severus ditched the effort, and rubbed his knee. It was throbbing, and he needed to dose himself with an anti-inflammatory.

Who was he kidding? What he really needed was to have a bit of a chin wag with Filius. Perhaps, he'd leave a message with Rowena requesting that Filius speak with him when he had a chance. Snape really needed to unravel one of the messes with which he was dealing, and his pride was too sore to deal with Minerva.

He was walking up to Filius' quarters, cursing himself for deciding to walk up all seven flights of steps, when he saw someone stand on the banister on the 7th Floor. Bloody hell! Bloody hell! Whipping out his wand, he mentally prepared himself for some tricky wand work. He'd have to be careful and cast at the right moment to save the jumper.

Damn it, wasn't the castle safeguarded against suicide attempts?

It was that damnable Kritika standing on the edge and Filius was merely watching her? Was this some sort of sick sexual fetish of Filius?

As he watched, he saw Kritika transform into a griffin. Not just any griffin, but the bloody griffin that had bravely fought Nisha the Nāga with bloody Garuda, Snake Hater. Balancing herself neatly on the banister with her lion legs, the Transformed witch jumped, smoothly gliding on her eagle wings, carefully avoiding the various staircases of Hogwarts. Filius was watching the griffin with a distracted, faraway expression on his face, and after she was no longer in view, he shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He saw Severus standing on the 5th floor, and the Charms Instructor motioned for him to come up to his room.

"I haven't had breakfast, Severus, so if you don't mind watching me eat, come up to my room! I want to talk to you!"

The sight of the griffin was a quick, painful reminder that Filius Flitwick was a card carrying, charter member of the Indian Nāga Hate Club and the traumatic sight had fortunately shocked Severus back to his senses. It would be an act of futility to talk to the Charms Instructor to discuss his concerns about their relationship, as Severus lacked the necessary silver tongue to express his concerns. He wasn't particularly articulate, except when it came to Potions, and Filius was quite eloquent. Another reason why he and Garuda had absolutely nothing in common.

"I'll have to do it on another day. I have an appointment," Severus lied. "I saw her on the banister, and worried that she was a student."

Quickly, not waiting for Filius' answer, he returned back to his lair, not making the effort to hide his limp. There were times that a fast retreat was preferable to a self-esteem saving withdrawal, and this was such a moment.

When he entered his quarters, he found a neatly wrapped package on his bed. It was obviously Filius' handiwork, as his packages were always smartly gift wrapped. Hesitantly, he opened the package and he found a picture from yesterday's party. It was the three of them, a grinning, sitting Minerva, a gleeful Filius who had insisted on standing behind them and him, the nasty Slytherin who appeared quite stiff and uncomfortable. Filius had demanded that the three of them sit for a photo, and Minerva had twisted his arm into agreeing. He had nearly made his escape, as Minerva hadn't thought to finagle a time for the sitting out of him, until Albus had caught him fleeing from the scene of the crime. The damnable, whimsical Head Master had shaken his head in disapproval, and had gently reminded him that Filius truly wanted the picture. When a mountain of guilt failed to move him, Albus had grabbed him by his forearm and had threatened to frogmarch him toward the photographer.  
_  
When did you have time to charm this? Weren't you busy shagging that Indian witch?_

It was a lovely picture, Minerva was grinning and Filius was so damn chuffed. Minerva had her arm behind Filius, and in fact, her hand was resting on Severus' shoulder. Why hadn't he noticed that? Filius was hugging both of them, while Severus Snape just looked constipated.

Why hadn't he attempted to smile? Because he hated his teeth, as they were crooked. Magical orthodontists had been far too expensive for his mother to utilize when his teeth had been moldable.  
_**  
Damn it, damn it, damn it.**_

Where to put it? It wasn't as though he was planning on entertaining anyone in his quarters… he could position it next to picture of him at the his graduation with his mom, and the picture of the faculty at his first commencement ceremony as an instructor.

No, this was a special picture, and so he Unveiled a hiding spot that was in not quite plain sight on his desk. There was a small, treasured picture of him and a red haired girl. Carefully, he placed his newest picture next to it, and then he stared at the two pictures.

* * *

Severus was acting odd, Filius decided. He had refused to join Filius in his quarters by claiming a falsehood so transparent that even a first year Gryffindor would be ashamed to have utilized it. Yes, odd and Severus normally went together hand in hand, like toast and marmalade, but the boy was acting out of the ordinary even for a man defined by his idiosyncratic manner. The Slytherin also never lied to him. Yes, he evaded answering and sometimes Severus even skirted the question, but he had never fibbed to Filius. 

Not even when he was a student.

Something had obviously happened at the party. Whatever had occurred had been after he had transformed the tracer to Minerva. The boy had seemed out of sorts for a bit, and Filius had truly attempted to speak to Severus. But the Slytherin had persistently avoided him.

Therefore, Filius needed to speak with Minerva McGonagall, and do so quickly. Maybe the witch would have some idea of what was troubling the lad.

He Located Minerva in Rolanda's quarters, and he Floo Called. Refusing to acknowledge Ro's rather rude comment about her being utterly surprised that he wasn't face down from sexual exhaustion, he asked Minerva to stop by his suite when she was done drinking with Ro,

Drinking! At this hour on a Sunday morning? What the hell had happened? Had he fallen down the rabbit hole? How had everything gone so completely topsy turvy in such a short time? What the hell had he been drinking at his party?

That could explain a great many things, Filius knew.

When Minerva finally stopped drinking and reported to his quarters, he greeted her with a harsh, "What is going on, Min?"


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer # 1 – not my characters. Not making any money. Just playing with them.

A/N # 1 - Selmak recently got two reviews recently, which sadly she was unable to answer as the person didn't leave an email addie. They were rather anti MM/SS.

"Frankly the very idea is horrifying. She is old enough to be like his grandmother or something at least older than his mother!? Unless his mother was like extremely, extremely old. You definitely should have mentioned it because it definitely is a disappointment. It being Minerva and Severus as the two characters mentioned at the top of the page as the main ones doesn't hint that that's the pairing. Seriously, the pairing is messed up!" & "the pairing is still very disturbing and wrong."

Now, Selmak takes all her little reviews to her little symbiote heart and cherishes each and everyone of them. Yes, she needs a good beta (as she lost hers in the last Go'auld raid on the Tok'Ra tunnels), a good weed wacker as she rambles, she splits her participles with great joy, and often times she gets enthralled with really minute trivia. Does anyone care that the Svetambara Jains wear a Muhapati to prevent themselves from inhaling flies? Well besides the Svetambara Jains, that is. But she's working on her writing. So yes, Anonymous is deemed to have a very good point.

So Selmak would like to apologize to any and all traumatized souls that have actually made it to this point of her long-running tale regarding the Unholy Trinity despite the fact that Sel was a silly little symbiote and didn't put SS/MM in big letters in the first chapter. Sel firmly believes that MM is a young at heart witch who enjoys a jolly good shag, regardless of the age difference of her partner. As long as they're above the age of consent and not a student, she's willing… well… as long it's not Peter Pettigrew and others of his ilk. Also the age difference had been discussed in detail a few chapters in, but Sel believes that Anonymous was having intensive therapy with Dr. Phil by then.

**_Off the top of her little Tok'Ra head, this is the listing of all pairings past, present and possible future._**

MM/SS, MM/OC, MM/ most of the Pride of Portree Quidditch team (Our Min supports her Scottish Team with pride), MM/AD, MM/FF, MM/PS, MM/RH, MM/MEMoody, MM/RL, MM/SB, MM/DKettleburn, AD/MOC, FF/FOC1, FF/FOC2, OC/OC and this teaser is just for you, Anonymous.

She promises you a SS/MM/FF bedroom scene where a very distraught Snape is devastated to find MM and FF mutually consoling themselves after an exceedingly bad day with Severus. Will our Min be able to handle both boys?

(Ignores terrified screams) Relax, Sel could just be a brat and making that tidbit up.

Now the question is – is there anyone still reading after that traumatic thought?

**_Synopsis_**: Sel left Severus staring at two treasured snapshots and Min had a command performance with Filius.

* * *

When Minerva finally stopped drinking with the girls and dutifully reported to his quarters, Filius greeted her with a harsh, "What is going on, Min?" 

"My head," she whimpered. "Everything's spinning. Make it stop."

"Oh for the love of everything magical, Min, do sit down," Filius snapped, as the witch's lovely green complexion clashed horrifically with her green eyes. "You look like you're about to collapse. Drinking with Ro is foolish, especially this early in the day!"

"Do you have a spot of Invigoration Draught handy?" Min plaintively requested, after she collapsed into a chair.

With a quick flick, swish and a dart of Filius's wand, before long Minerva was back within the land of the happy to be alive, as opposed to the land of the living that wished that they had died rather than endure their hangover.

"You shouldn't drink with Ro this early on a Sunday morning, especially after all your extracurricular activities yesterday," Filius slyly insinuated, and the Charms Instructor waited for Minerva's guilty conscience to spill her sordid story. For good measure, Filius also decided to smile.

A rather knowing smirk, in fact. After all his innumerous decades of teaching, Filius knew exactly how to break a guilty party into confessing their crimes. Let other teachers browbeat and deduct points, Filius knew when he could crack a soul with a simple smirk.

"Merlin's pants," she pitifully moaned. "How much do you know?"

"Min, did you really think I'd be unaware of anything that transpired?" Filius questioned, liberally lacing his tone with hurt with a smidgen of disbelief. "I transferred part of the bond to you, not all of it. So I know exactly where you spent last night."

"He didn't… talk to you… about what happened? Oh Filius, I'm so embarrassed!" The witch blurted out that tasty tidbit and then the witch put her head in her hands, quietly muttering about how badly she had cocked up everything.

"Come on, Min, tell Uncle Filius your side of things. You'll feel much better!" Filius cooed, and then to his absolute horror, Min then in fact, told him everything, leaving nothing uncensored and uncut. In fact, there was utterly too much personal information for Filius' comfort.

When Filius was at last able to collect his scattered thoughts, he let them simmer for a bit in his mind, much like tea leaves need to steep in hot water in order to produce a fine cuppa.

"Maybe I should have taken the boy up on his repeated offers" was his first thought which Filius immediately discarded as both extremely crass and exceedingly unhelpful.

Flitwick was delighted with the fantastic news that Severus and Min had finally decided to consummate their relationship. The budding sexual tension between the two of them had been getting noticeable to someone that knew them as well as Filius did. Well, to be honest, he needed to rephrase that, it was utterly brilliant that Min had finally decided to play Quidditch with the all too willing lad. Add the tidbit that Severus was apparently quite the lover, capable of even satisfying the lusty Minerva, and Flitwick was ready to bless the relationship for as long as it lasted.

The boy needed some happiness in his life, and Minerva would provide it by the cauldrons, if Fillius could get the two of them talking again.

"Bryce Kinnear. You know, Severus does look a little bit like Bryce," Filius finally admitted. "I never realized it before now, but there is a noticeable physical similarity. The height, the coloring, the posture…"

Min nodded her head, and said not a word, instead the witch roughly wiped an unshed tear from her tearing eye.

"Oh, love, you can grieve for Bryce," Filius gently chastised her. "It's not a shameful thing."

"But I shouldn't be grieving Bryce when I have another man in my bed," Min protested. "I can't believe that I wept like a deflowered virgin doing the walk of shame!"

"Yes, you crying is a little ego crushing…and for someone like Severus who's so chary of admitting that he's a human being who possesses such frailties such as emotions, I can easily comprehend why he jumped out the window rather than talk out the issue," Filius admitted. "I mean, we are talking about the same lad who _Lacus Somnioru'd_ you."

Filius' moustache twitched, and he barked a laugh.

"What a truly Slytherin thing to do," Filius quipped. "To jump out the window rather than face you! But most importantly, are you sure he wasn't _**physically**_ hurt?"

"I don't believe he was hurt," Minerva curtly retorted before her voice softened. "I didn't see any blood or any signs that he was injured when I had breakfast. But I didn't have the chance to ask him, as he was busy chatting with Tanaka regarding Japanese Potion Makers. I certainly didn't question Poppy as how could I honestly explain my desire to know if Severus had crawled into the infirmary? 'Pardon me, did Severus break any bones this morning around 2am?' What a bloody Gryffindor thing to do."

Filius' grin broadened, and he leaned closer to Min before he softly whispered, "How many times do I have to tell you that we view people's characteristics through their House Affiliation?"

"Excuse me; I'm having a bit of a personal crisis at the moment, Filius. Can please we skip your post doctorate thesis on 'House Affiliations and Personal Characteristics'?" Minerva moaned. "Because I'm sure that you'll slant his jumping out the window as the Ravenclaw thing to do as breaking every damn bone in his body was smarter than to facing me!"

"Min, I'm having my own issues with Severus. Do you have any idea why he might be angry with me? Maybe angry isn't the right word, but the boy seems rather put off with me. It's not my fault Albus turned him into a party planner, so I can't understand why he's feeling… as though I've betrayed him…The boy is quite upset with me." Filius whispered that last, and he quickly wiped his own eyes. "I'm worried that it's a result of the India extravaganza. They do have a bit of hero worship with reference to me…"

"More like a cult," Minerva offered helpfully.

"And I'm quite close to several of the Cadre," Filius quickly blushed after he recalled the previous night, and then he squeaked, "Get your mind out of the bloody gutter, Min!"

"But it's so nice down in the gutter. Everything's so soft and warm," Minerva purred, truly enjoying watching Filius' blush spread from his ears all the way to the very tip of his nose.

"You were much nicer before you started hanging out with Ro," Filius snapped. "Yes, I understood you two were as close as thieves from that auspicious day you first met on the Hogwarts Express, but I have my ways of knowing what a sweet, innocent girl you were before you were willingly led astray. But yes, I'm quite close to several of the Cadre, Mohammed Masood, in particular. After all, I was exceeding fond of both his parents, and I stayed in touch with him over the years."

"I don't think Severus would begrudge you your friendships with Mohammed and the rest of them," Minerva decided after a very thorough internal deliberation. "But Filius, there was that rather noticeable anti-snake bias in the Indian presentation."

"No, they're not anti snakes, they're anti-Nisha fanaticism," Filius protested. "She was a loner, and quite… utterly mad. I mean, many of Jaya's senior most Sikh instructors were formerly Nāga students of Nisha. For example, Amanbir Kaur saw the error of Nisha's ways, and she's now one of the dueling instructors at the school. Jaya and her husband Bharadwaj trust her completely as they let Amanbir stay behind to keep an eye on the Sikh students. Merlin's beard, can you imagine? Twenty thousand students?"

"Filius, there was a slight altercation between India and Severus. In fact, they were flatly refusing to attend because…. Kritika and her mirror caught Sev in flagrante delicto… completely and utterly starkers in fact, and she saw the Death Mark," Minerva explained. "It was a rather hairy situation as they were flatly refusing to leave the damn mountain to come to the party. I had to speak with them, and I'm sure that damnable Albus was involved, but they decided to change their mind."

"Shalini was quite fond of using mirrors to correspond, and they've kept that tradition alive. Mirrors are such bloody nuances, as you can't politely ask for a chinwag before barging in," Filius growled. "So yes, I think seeing a Death Mark tattoo would make them rather nervous. The Nāga House was quite proud of its traditions, and every one of Nāga students was tattooed with serpents. For example, Amanbir has these intricate tattoos that are wrapped around her body. When she converted to Sikhism, she offered to get them removed because the Sikhs believe in not modifying the body that God has given them, but after much discussion, she decided to keep them. Removal would cause further damage."

"Filius, as much I enjoy debating the finer points of the Sikh mysticism with you, I'm a little more worried about Severus," Minerva reminded him.

"Forgive an old academic, Min," Filius pleaded. "We get distracted so easily especially by pretty girls with interesting tattoos in strategic locations."

"How are we going to handle Severus?" Minerva questioned. "I'm willing to follow your advice with him."

"I need to talk to him first. Then you can swoop in and console him," Filius suggested. "I think last night might have aggravated my lumbago. Yes, in fact, I believe that I'll need Severus to whip up his special potion for me."

"You're such a dirty old man," retorted the witch. "You shouldn't be shagging witches a quarter of your age if your body can't handle it."

"I'll be leaving," Filius decided, ignoring Minerva's rude comment on his sexual prowess. "If you're sober enough to find you way out, please do so. If not, feel free to sleep it off on the couch."

The Charms Instructor grab a handful of Floo Powder and he threw it into the fireplace. With a burst of green flames, he stepped into the fireplace, leaving one foot outside of the range of the flames. One of Filius' personal quirks was that Filius refused to stick his head into the fireplace for a Floo Chat. He was short enough, thank you very much, and so he always stood for the chats.

"Severus, lad? You there? Do you have any of my lumbago potion available?"

For a moment, Minerva believed that Filius was in real agony. His voice held that slight quiver that she had learned meant Filius was being brave and ignoring his pain.

"May I come down for some? I don't want to disturb you… No, no, no. You don't have to come up here." Filius pleaded and then paused in his one way conversation. "Very well then… if you insist… on Flooing up here, I won't stop you. I'll see you in a few minutes."

He left the fireplace and then turned to face Minerva. "You need to leave; Min. Severus will be arriving in roughly two minutes. He seems maudlin to the point of mawkishness, which is so unlike him. I usually have to only deal with that odd mood when Albus is in his cups."

"Albus?" Min questioned, her voice full of surprise. "He gets _**drunk**_?"

"It's rare, but sometimes after he deals with Aberforth, he starts obsessing about the Dumbledore family history, reliving past regrets and misdeeds. I did teach Albus, after all, and I know his story quite well. By that I mean, the true story, Min, not the lies that his family spun to protect his sister."

"His parents did what they thought was best," Minerva tiredly protested. "It was a different age back then."

"Yes, and their decisions created ripples that still affect Aberforth and Albus to this very day," Filius commented. "Now please, get out of here!"

"Alright, alright!" Minerva growled. "Tell me how you make out."

* * *

Severus was still staring at the photo, watching Min and Filius hug and laugh while the photo Severus sat looking rather dyspeptic. The photo Filius then attempted to hug the photo Severus, and the sulky snapshot Severus stormed off to parts unknown, his black robes billowing behind him. 

His fire place blazed green, and he quickly Veiled the two photos. It was Filius Flitwick popping in for a Floo Chat, and the Charms Master was grimacing in pain.

"Severus, lad? You there? Do you have any of my lumbago potion available?"

His voice held that slight quiver that meant Filius was being brave and ignoring his pain. It was obvious that Garuda had too much fun with his feisty witch and was now paying through the nose for his festivities.

"I have some, I'll bring it up to you," Severus tersely stated. "You sit down on your couch, and I'll be there momentarily."

"May I come down for some?" Filius requested. "I don't want to disturb you."

"Filius, Flooing is bad on tendonitis, you know that. I'll bring it up to you."

"No, no, no. You don't have to come up here." Filius pleaded.

Obviously, all seeing, all knowing, all wonderful and tripled blessed Garuda was noticing his less than chuffed attitude.

"I'll bring it up to you. Now sit _**down**_, Filius. I'll be there _**shortly**_."

"Very well then… if you insist… on Flooing up here, I won't stop you. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Filius disappeared, and Severus could prevent voicing a groan of displeasure. Damn bloody oversexed Filius Flitwick for overexerting himself. Naturally, he had to put Filius back together again.

* * *

He Floo'd to Filius' quarters and the Charms Master was sitting on the couch. There was a throw over the Charm's Masters small legs, and there were two House Elves busy setting up a High Tea. Everything in the assorted dishes and plates smelled absolutely heavenly to Severus, and he sternly warned his stomach to behave.  
_  
We're not staying!_

"Very good," Filius was telling the two House Elves. "If I need anything else, I'll call."

"We is pleased to serve!" The Elves chorused and then they thankfully left.

"Severus! Please sit, have some tea!" Filius suggested, in a voice that sounded very much like an order.

Naturally, Severus refused to sit. He wanted this meeting to be short and relatively pain free, at least emotionally, and then he'd return to his dark lair to lick his wounds and stew on his dark thoughts some more.

"Here's your potion, Filius. May I suggest that you're too old for nocturnal wrestling matches with significantly younger witches?" Severus dryly commented. "You're lucky that you didn't end up in traction. Can you imagine the scandal if Rita Skeeter found out?"

Filius laughed, wincing while he did so. Severus couldn't help but flinch sympathetically, as his damn knee was throbbing something fierce. He could just imagine how painful Filius' lumbago was.

"Actually she had a great deal of compassion for my physical limitations. I think my strolling around the Quidditch Pitch yesterday is what's causing my hip to ache. But you're still standing, Severus. Sit down, I want to chat with you, and since you're here, we can be civilized and do so over tea." Filius then smiled, and motioned for him to sit down.

"I have a great deal of grading to do," Severus protested. He handed Filius the potion, trying not to limp and to his surprise, Filius grabbed his hand.

"Come on, lad. Sit down, Severus. I didn't get a chance to talk to you yesterday. I really appreciate the effort you put into the party. Let me at least say thank you," Filius pleaded. "Thank you, Severus. I am greatly touched by all our hard work in getting yesterday's party together. It meant a great deal to me."

Damn the sincerity of the Charms Master, Severus thought. Couldn't he just quaff his potion and fall asleep?

"You're welcome," Severus tersely stated. "Now drink your potion, so I can go. I added a ingredient to help you rest, so you should feel sleepy. I thought after all your nocturnal activities, you probably need to catch up on your sleep for tomorrow's classes."

"Perhaps I don't need it as much as you do," Filius slowly stated. "You're limping."

"I twisted my knee yesterday," Severus admitted. "Your bloody bear mage was busy chasing Septima. He nearly tackled me."

"Bad, bad Yuri," Filius stated softly.

Filius was staring at him, and Severus felt himself dwindling back into his twelve year old self. He wouldn't let Flitwick do this to him! He'd be _**strong**_ and he wouldn't be intimidated by Flitwick's kind eyes.

"Severus, why are you mad at me? It's not my fault that Albus turned you into a party planner," Filius gently questioned.

"I'm not mad at you. I even found the entire experience to be… less painful than I had dared to hope," Severus lied.

"Another lie, Severus. That's the third falsehood you've spoken to me today," the Charms Master protested in a very disappointed tone. "You obviously wanted to talk to me earlier today, yet you changed your mind. Yuri didn't cause your injury as he can barely get up to anything faster than a lumbering pace, even if he's chasing a pretty girl, and if you're not mad at me, then I'm shagging Dolores Umbridge."

"Don't let Filch hear that, he's quite possessive of his women," Severus retorted.

Filius shuddered and then made a face as though he was about to sick up.

"You're still lying to me, Sev. I thought we were friends," protested Filius. "Even as a student, you never lied to me. Why are you starting now?"

"Friends?" Severus questioned. "I know you're my keeper, Filius. I know you've my executioner, but are we… _**friends**_?"

The distrust in his voice appeared to greatly distress Filius.

"Bloody hell yes. What type of question is that, Severus? Will you have the courtesy to sit down, Severus? You're making my neck ache as I have to crane my neck to look at you. After all these years, you're now wondering if we're friends. What the bloody hell brought this on?" Filius softly questioned. "What exactly happened at the party to make you doubt our friendship, Severus?"

Severus gracelessly sat down in a soft chair. It was only because his knee was beginning to ache, and for no other reason.

"I discovered that Garuda, the much beloved and world renowned killer of Nāgas, has a severe case of Ophidiophobia which he has failed to mention to me in the last dozen or so years that he's been putting up with me," Severus admitted. "I simply can not understand why Garuda has willingly dealt with the Head of Slytherin except that Albus forced you to do so. Therefore our presumed friendship has been nothing more than a lie."

Filius paled and he shook his head. The Charms Master was cursing in various assorted languages, or at least Severus thought he was, as Filius looked upset.

"Bloody hell," Filius finally calmed down enough to say that. "I had hoped that I had successfully hidden my entirely irrational fear of snakes from you and the various Slytherins that I have interacted with ever since the Mumbai Massacre. All these years, and you're the first one to notice my Ophidiophobia. You won't tell your students, will you?"

"Slytherin House prides itself on looking out for fellow Slytherins." That's all Severus would commit to, but Filius turned a sickly shade.

"For the love of everything magical, Sev, please don't tell them. If word gets out, every time I fail a student, I'll find a cobra in my desk. Hell, I might find more than one, and I really…don't want to fall apart… in front of the students." Filius whispered.

Bloody hell, Filius was shaking and in tears. Even though they weren't friends and had apparently never been particularly close, Severus still felt guilty.

"Brace yourself, Garuda," sniped Severus. "I will not inform my students that the legendary impartiality of Filius Flitwick is a tall tale just like our supposed friendship was."

"You don't understand, Severus. There were thousands of them. **_Thousands_,**" Filius sharply protested. "They were _**everywhere**_. In the ceilings, wrapped around the pillars, slithering on the floors… There wasn't enough antivenin to save everyone, and so they suffocated to death as their diaphragms were paralyzed and… I didn't mention it to you because I had worked hard to overcome my fears. You know that I still have nightmares…I still dream about Utta being overwhelmed by thousands of cobras."

Severus said nothing because what could he say to defend himself? Nothing. He was a Slytherin after all.

"Lad, our friendship wasn't a lie. It wasn't, but right now, I can't deal with you and your all too reasonable suspicions. Get out, Severus." Filius harshly commanded, and then his voice softened. "I need to be alone. One of these days, I'll have the strength to crack your rock hard head open and pour some badly needed sense into it, but not now. My dead are haunting me."

That was whispered very softly, and Severus realized that he had really cocked up everything as he was a complete arse.

"I'm sorry, Filius." Severus whispered. He got out of his chair, and he crawled on his knees toward Filius' seat, uncaring of the pain in his knee. What was important was that he apologized to the Charms Master. If he needed to crawl on broken glass, he would, so the twinge in his knee was nothing to him. "I'm so sorry, Filius. You know how I get…"

"Yes, I do know how you get. How many times have I warned you about your tendency to overanalyze everything? You find slights when they don't exist, discover insults that were never voiced, and you jump out windows instead of actually talking out an issue. But in the dozen odd years we've been friends, you've never hurt me as much as you did just now by doubting our friendship. Is it so hard for you to believe that I actually might care for you? That I might cherish your companionship as much I treasure my friendship with Minerva, even in spite of your cantankerous, skeptical nature? No, such a simple answer would never dare cross your overly analytical mind. Now get out, Severus," ordered the Charms Instructor.

Quickly, Severus kissed Filius on his cheek. He was reacting instinctively; praying that what had once assuaged his mother's anger would mollify Filius. He knew he was throwing nitroglycerin on a raging fire, but Severus Snape, Knobby No Mate, Clueless Charlie truly possessed no idea on how to alleviate Filius' anger.

"I'm so sorry, Filius. Please, please forgive your Severus," he pleaded. "I'm sorry."

"_**Stop it, Severus.**_ You first tell me our friendship is a lie and now you're offering me your body. Get out, Severus. I don't have the strength to deal with you right now," Filius tearfully protested.

Severus continued to plant kisses on Filius' face, pleading for forgiveness, and he wasn't surprised when the Charms Master nonverbally cast a spell to stop him. The Slytherin **_was _**utterly gobsmacked when he hit the fire place at a high rate of speed and then was abruptly Floo'd back to his own fireplace in his empty quarters.

He was still lying face down in the ashes of his fireplace, stunned at what had occurred and wondering how he could convince Filius to forgive him when his Dark Mark began to pain him.

Bloody hell, of all the times to be summoned!

"_You jump out windows instead of actually talking out an issue."  
_  
Bloody, bloody hell, Filius knew exactly what had happened between him and Minerva.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer # 1 – not my characters. Not making any money. Just playing with them.

Disclaimer # 2 - There's a random, snarky comment in this chapter that may permanently sear itself into your brain, for which Selmak is sorry (Well,… not really…)

A/N – Thanks to Linze for her help and her suggestions as this chapter was being a brat.

* * *

Minerva had just endured an exceedingly stressful twenty four hours on top of a rather exhausting month or so of party planning, and she was quite grateful to discover an unopened bottle of scotch in her quarters. For a moment, she truly wondered if one of the House Elves was being 'helpful' and purposely leaving her unopened bottles of Scotch in her quarters. They often silently popped in and left her tea during the middle of marking exams, but to leave a bottle of Scotch? 

Ah, wait. Now she remembered. This particular bottle had been won after wagering with Ro on the outcome of the Quidditch World Cup of 1978. She had been saving it for a very special occasion for so long that she had forgotten and misplaced it.

One couldn't blame a stressed witch for being slightly forgetful.

A small intimate party for, at last count, for Filius and nine hundred and thirty nine of his closest friends, including a gaggle of assorted souls who had decided to crash the party. There had even been a photographer from the Daily Prophet who had been so busy snapping pictures of the various foreign mages and their elaborate outfits that he had failed to realize that he had long since run out of film.

In her spare time, Minerva had bonded Severus Snape, thanks to Filius, leading her to realize anew the Potions Master's less than chaste thoughts regarding her. Her romantic exploits at the party had included a rather blistering tango with a one armed animagus from Mumbai and several extremely promising, exceedingly illicit offers from several mages including the before mentioned Indian animagus and his partner, a kilt wearing Scotsman, who prided himself on being…. 'Regimental' in his dress, and a Russian Warrior Mage who was a bear more often than he was human.

Had she accepted any of those offers of uncomplicated bliss? No, she had decided to play Snake and Ladders with Severus. That coupling had ended as a complete disaster as she had wept like a deflowered virgin, causing a horrified Severus to jump out the window rather than face the dreaded morning after talk.

Adding the worrying fact that she was drinking with Rolanda far too early in the morning into the mixture, she knew that she'd in terrible form for her classes tomorrow. But since Dolores Umbridge was subverting the discipline of Hogwarts' by causing every instructor to become a full fledge alcoholic, Minerva figured that, as Deputy Head Mistress, she should lead by example for the rest of the teaching staff.

For a moment, Minerva tallied the amount of alcohol she had consumed so far this school year. The sheer volume made her wince. Yes, she was drinking far more than her norm, and she really needed to keep an eye on it. In spite of her jokes about turning into an alcoholic, Minerva knew that drinking alone was a bad sign. Yet, the whisky had already been poured, and she couldn't really rebottle it. One drink for tonight, and then she'd put the bottle away for the next time she had guests.

She was taking a long, slow sip, savoring the liquid when her left arm began to burn. The shock caused her to drop her glass, spilling her all too precious drops of Glenfiddich 1937 onto the carpet.

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Severus had been summoned which meant that someone needed to greet him when he came back. Albus and Filius were both close to two hundred fifty years and had shagged much younger mages the previous night… _**Not nice**_ her conscience snapped, reminding her that Severus was several decades younger than she was, and truthfully Tanaka was only a decade or so younger than Albus. Yukiro just looked a lot younger as he ate healthy, exercised regularly and didn't wear a seven foot long beard.

_Yes, but I'm in my first century at least!_

Well of all the three members of the Severus Snape Welcome Home Committee, Minerva believed that she was probably the only one that was physically capable of greeting the boy. With a quick flick of her wand, she changed her clothes into a cleaner set, while she savored the remains of her glass of the Glenfiddich 1937.

As Deputy Head Mistress of Hogwarts, she was able to open any door in Hogwarts with the exception of the Head Master's office. Not to say that it didn't often open itself when she asked to speak with Albus, without waiting for his approval. Therefore, she'd welcome Severus home.

Whether he liked it or not.

Then, after she tucked him into bed, and played Hide the Snake with Severus until the man was an exhausted shell of his normal caustic self, Minerva would sincerely apologize. And if that didn't work, she'd shag him some more until he capitulated.

* * *

There was a regular festival in Severus' quarters, as she saw both Albus and Filius when the portrait swung open for her. A standing Albus gave her a friendly greeting, but a dejected Filius, who was sitting on Severus' couch, was busy staring into space. 

"Filius? What ever is the matter?" She gently questioned the Charms Instructor, who just shook his head, refusing to answer.

"He and Severus had a bit of a falling out. Now he feels guilty," Albus quietly whispered that information to Minerva. He then put one finger over his mouth to tell her to keep quiet.

"I should know by now that whenever I yell at the boy he'll overreact. Damn it, I should have kept my bloody mouth shut," Filius muttered in a low tone.

"Well, I hardly believe that you can have made a bigger fool of yourself than I did last night – and there is little to no point in you dwelling on it now." Minerva began, deciding someone at this impromptu gathering was going to have to be pragmatic and well… sensible. Men were just so sensitive and emotional sometimes, when cold hearted, down-to-earth thinking was needed.

Naturally, nosy Albus caught that comment and collapsed onto it with all the grace of an exhausted Seeker catching sight of a Snitch after thirty hours of nonstop Quidditch.

"What exactly happened between you and Severus last night?" Albus not-so-gently questioned.

"I'll only confess what happened if you tell me _**all**_ about your night with Yukiro," Minerva snapped. "Is Yukiro truly into Kinbaku-bi? I remember hearing that_** scandalous**_ rumor."

Her retort caused Albus to blush, as Tanaka Yukiro's fetish for the erotic Japanese discipline of rope bondage was a universally known 'secret'.

"_**Yes**_, Yukiro likes bondage, Minerva," Filius tersely snapped. "If you ask him nicely, I'm quite sure he'll be willing to demonstrate it on you. Some people find it quite liberating to be to give up complete control to someone else for a brief time. Can we now stop discussing Tanaka's sexual fetishes and refocus our attention onto our problem child?"

Albus conceded Minerva the point. "I just worry about Severus," he protested.

"I know you worry about him. Filius and I are both going to have to sort out our problems with Severus soon enough, but there's nothing we can do until he is back home and in a fit state to talk. Or at least to listen," Minerva announced.

She had spoken as though she had great confidence of her convictions; she only wished she did in fact feel that way.

"Well said, Minerva my dear." Albus chimed in lightly, though he appeared to still be blushing from her Tanaka quip. "Now, I doubt that Severus will welcome finding such a party as this in his quarters when he returns but perhaps that is not going to be his greatest concern tonight, so may I suggest we settle in – at least in the short term. Chess, Filius?"

Minerva poured them each another glass of whiskey, having brought the bottle from her rooms 'just in case' and settled quite happily to watch the two older men set to battle across the chess board.

Filius, having seemed to rise at least a little from his morose mood, had lit a jolly fire in the grate and much to her chagrin, Minerva found herself dropping off, as she sat curled up on Severus' surprisingly comfortable sofa. The Charms Master must have provided a cushioning spell as it wasn't quite an uncomfortable as she remembered, or else she was just bone tired. The combination of the warmth, alcohol and the day's emotional upheaval were proving just too much for her. As the clock chimed the 1st hour of a new day, Minerva was fighting valiantly just to try and keep her head upright.

"Rest," someone whispered. Filius, she thought abstractly, while she snuggled further down the seat and pulled the blanket further round her shoulders. In the warm, fuzzy state of near slumber, she decided to listen to the two men converse.

"This isn't good, Albus. He's been gone longer than he normally has. You don't believe that he's finally had enough of being a double agent?" Filius softly muttered that comment as though he regretted giving voice to it.

"All things are quite possible, Filius. What do you believe?" Albus gently asked.

"I trust him, though sometimes I worry about the stress he's under," Filius admitted. "I certainly didn't help matters today."

"I'm sure that after you and Severus resolve your issues, your friendship will be even stronger," promised Albus. "Any idea what's happening?"

"He shut me out after the party, Albus. I can sense… that's he's doing a great deal of talking, but I'm not sure to what it is in reference."

For a moment, Filius' words helped Minerva focus on Severus

_Severus was standing, facing He Who Must Not Be Named, and he was reciting the invitation list from Filius' party. His voice was harsh and cracking, as though he had been busy reciting all nine hundred plus names._

_"So you're unable to determine the possible threat of the South African mages?"_

_"My lord, they only spoke isZulu, and the only person fluent in that tongue was Filius. But from all accounts, their mages are no better than shaman, as they believe that they should use their magic to assist everyone, irregardless of their magical status," Severus explained._

_"Blasphemy!" whispered a Death Eater, even as He Who Was Not Particularly Chuffed snorted his disbelief._

_"They seem to favor their tribal traditions, as they rode… __**zebras**__," Severus added. "Londe had an impromptu Zebra steeplechase ride during the middle of the festivities. It was rather… barbaric." _

"_Zebras? Very well, tell me about the Indians, Severus," ordered He Who Must Not Be Named._

_"Do you wish me to name all eighty four Indian mages, my Lord?" Severus questioned. "May I have permission to take another sip of wine? Their names are rather difficult to pronounce at the best of times, and my throat is parched."_

_He Who Must Not Be Named gave him permission to take a sip, and then he spoke._

_"No, Severus, you have done well with your report. I just wish to know about three mages in particular. When the International Confederation of Wizards voted to remove Albus Dumbledore as Chairman, three nations who had failed to attend meetings of the ICW for untold decades, were present at the meeting. All three voted to keep Albus as Chairman, and then after the vote's result was announced, the trio then left the meeting. The mages were__Kritika Mukhopadhyay representing India, Mohammed Masood on behalf of Pakistan and Jaya Kaur for the disputed territory of Kashmir. You will tell me everything you know about them and their ties to Albus."_

"He's having Severus list all the mages that attended your party, Filius," Minerva whispered. "I believe that He Who Must Not Be Named is concerned that Albus was using it as a front to recruit foreign mages. At this moment, he's asking about Kritika, Mohammed and Jaya Kaur."

_"Senior Deputy Head Mistress Jaya Kaur is a Sikh. She is a mage of middling strength, and the Dueling Instructor of the India School of Magic," Severus then paused, and Minerva could sense the boy's exhaustion. He was so tired, fearful of letting anything slip and his shields were faltering._

_"Her relationship to Albus?" He Who Must Not Be Named but Was Apparently Irked that Severus was Dawdling on the Information._

_Severus paused, attempting to determine what the relationship was, and what he should admit. _

_Her personal loyalty is to Hogwarts. As a survivor of the Mumbai Massacre, there is a debt of honor owed as Hogwarts sent assistance during their time of need, _Minerva mentally prompted. _Sikhs honor their obligations, no matter what the cost. It appears that each Head Master was selected primarily on their backgrounds, their religion and their geographic home as opposed to true talent and strength._

"_She was selected as Senior Deputy Head Mistress only because she is a Sikh and her home was once in the disputed Kashmir territory, and Kritika wished a united school. They have an embarrassment of overtitled personnel who hold the rank of Assistant Head Master or greater. It seems no scholarly qualifications are needed to hold such an august position in India, besides being a specific religion and from a certain geographic location."_

_"Very well… but her relationship to Albus?" He Who Must Not Be Named hissed._

"_There was an honor debt owed to Hogwarts," Severus' voice was steady as he spoke. "Hogwarts sent aid to the school during the Mumbai Massacre. Mohammed Masood is Vice-Headmaster of the school and was, at one time, a mage of considerable strength, but he was seriously maimed during the Mumbai Massacre. He lost both an eye and his left arm, leaving him dependant on the use of wandless magic as he was left-handed. I doubt that particular experience has left him eager for another magical battle. Masood's parents died in the Mumbai Massacre, so I believe that is why he is Vice-Headmaster, in acknowledgment of his parents' ultimate sacrifice. Rumors state that he has no skill at administration. I believe that he voted as he did due to Albus being a Hogwart's instructor."_

"_And the other witch?" He Who Must Not be Named questioned_.

Severus paused, and then Minerva gave him a rather randy thought.

_"Miss__Mukhopadhyay is a bit more pragmatic then her colleagues. She keeps the India School in permanent Seclusion as they are still deeply traumatized from the Mumbai Massacre. It has taken her decades to rebuild the school to what is it now, and I doubt that she will readily risk another magical confrontation. The only way I can believe that she has such a large school is that she has her instructors sweep the slums of India looking for anyone with the faintest spark of magic. I think that she voted the way she did because Filius Flitwick supports Albus. She is apparently enamored of our dear Charms Instructor and wishes to be on his good side."_

"Kritika is a slut," Minerva murmured. "Interested in getting into Filius' pants. Mohammed had power, but is reluctant to face another war. Jaya is only of middling strength and was selected to her position only as she was a Sikh who once lived in Kashmir."

_"Will they involve themselves if I move against Albus? I am curious about your opinion," the Dark Lord hissed._

_Severus had a simple answer, "If you poke a snake with a stick, it will bite. I am uncertain on how strong their ties to Hogwarts would be if you should move against the school. There were only two Hogwarts mages that fought in the Mumbai Massacre, perhaps they might send two mages to assist, perhaps more. But I believe that India's overwhelming desire to be left alone and lick old wounds will weigh heavily on whatever decision they make."_

_"Very well," the Dark Lord decided. "What was your opinion on Tanaka Yukiro? The Japanese Loremaster has a reputation as being both a scholar and a warrior."_

_Yukiro is getting old, _Minerva thought.

_"He looks as though his age is catching up with him."_

There was nothing then as the connection with Severus appeared to be broken, and then Minerva opened her eyes. Both wizards were staring at her in deep concern, and Albus had smelling salts under her noise. The sharp assault of ammonia against her sensitive cat sense of smell was close to making her sick up.

"Get that away from me," she whispered as she batted Albus' hand away from her. "I truly loathe the smell of ammonia."

"Minerva, where were you just now? We kept calling your name, and you wouldn't answer," questioned Albus.

"You were mumbling, and I was about to get Poppy here," Filius exclaimed. "You denounced Kritika as a slut, Mohammed as a coward, Jaya as nothing more than a token sham and then you mentioned Yukiro as looking rather decrepit."

"I just saw Severus, or I think I did. He was reporting on the various mages that attended your party, Filius. He Who Must Not Be Named thought Albus was busy recruiting foreign mages," explained Minerva.

She rubbed her eyes, and she was grateful when one of the boys offered her a glass of cold water. Sipping slowly, Minerva was soon able to collect her thoughts enough to report on what she had overheard.

"From what I eavesdropped, he was especially curious about Londe, Yukiro, Jaya, Kritika and Mohammed. Severus told him that the South African mages do nothing much besides riding around on zebras all day, dispensing help to the less fortunate, Yukiro is getting frail and that most of the various personnel in the India School were given titles merely because of their religion and hometowns, irregardless of their skills and abilities. You apparently heard the rest, but he truly didn't call Kritika a slut nor Mohammed a coward."

No, he just subtly implied.

"I need to warn them," Albus quietly announced. "Filius? You'll greet him when he returns? Contact me if there is more I need to know. No doubt I'll be awake."

Albus hastily left Severus' quarters, leaving Filius and Minerva sitting on the couch.

"Was he recruiting?" Minerva murmured. No doubt there were a thousand other reasons why Albus had decided it was such a brill idea to throw Filius a birthday party, and she'd never be privy to all the reasons why Albus did what Albus did.

"You shouldn't make fun of Albus like that, Min. If Yukiro can give Albus a few moment of peace from the war, don't begrudge him it," Filius gently chastised. His moustache twitched as he continued, "Plus the mental image of Albus being Kinbaku-bi'd is now burned in my mind. When I breathe my last, I'll see THAT horrifying sight before I pass over."

Filius' jolly laughter filled Severus' rooms, and then he stopped chuckling when he realized that Minerva wasn't laughing.

"Has this happened to you?" A curious Minerva questioned, and then gestured, "It was like I was a passenger in Severus' mind watching everything. He was utterly stumped for an answer on Jaya Kaur, so I made a few suggestions, which he seemed to use."

"Be careful, Min, you don't want anyone realizing that you're there, tagging along for the raree show," Filius sternly warned her, his eyes intense. "What you saw, most likely happened. I have flashes, when Severus is feeling strongly about something. I've never been able to actually give him guidance though our connection. Merlin knows the boy barely takes it when we're standing in the same room."

The Charms Master began tapping his fingers, and then he barked a soft laugh.

"I wonder about your connection with the boy. It's stronger, in some ways, compared to mine with him," admitted the Charms Master with a sly tone. "Must be that boy girl link. You two must have had some night together…"

He patted his cheeks, pretending to blush. "I'm just too old for these things. You younger mages with your insatiable sexual appetites! I think I will soon swoon from the embarrassment! Ropes! Bondage indeed!"

"Filius! You're a scoundrel! A rogue, a rascal and … a Lothario!" Minerva protested. "The only way I could hopelessly embarrass you is by…."

The witch paused, unable to come up with a suitable threat that would shame Filius.

Her inability to put the fear of Minerva into Filius found the Charms Master smirking at her.

"Well? Don't leave an ancient man in suspense. The trepidation might kill me, and I'll have to haunt you for eternity, waiting for an answer," retorted Filius. He then looked at his pocket watch and shook his head when he read the face. With a sharp click, he closed it. "Bloody two in the morning, Min. You can stay or you can go, but this cabbage is turning in."

"You're returning to your quarters? You aren't waiting for Severus?" Minerva questioned.

"I'm going to crash in Severus' bed. It's not like he's not using at the moment," he quipped. "Actually, long standing arrangement between us, as his damn couch is too uncomfortable for me to sleep on for long unless I want to be crippled tomorrow… today…. Don't tell the boy, but I put a cushioning spell on the couch tonight."

Minerva softly laughed, and gave her thanks to him for the charm.

"I'll sit next to you," Minerva decided. "I'm assuming that's your chair?"

"Bloody hell yes," Filius confessed. "If I'm watching over the boy I at least deserve a comfy chair."

* * *

Damn it, he was far too old to babysit a forty year old Death Eater, and his aching body was protesting the fact that he hadn't let Minerva deal with the boy. If he had, he would have had a good six hours of sleep before facing his fumble fingered lack wits in just a few hours. 

His scruples hissed a protest, going so far as to chastise him for sounding suspiciously like a rather disgruntled Severus. Filius in turn, gave his scruples a piece of his mind, detailing that he was old enough to dislike teaching idiots after so many years of dedicated service. It was truly unnecessary having his conscience nagging him when he drifted off to sleep.

No doubt because he was anxious about Severus, his dreams were full of confusion and turmoil.

_A spell casting Yuri was on top of Koshchei the Deathless, attempting to slay the beast, while the beast rampaged through Hogwarts, knocking down assorted pillars and staircases. Filius fled to the Great Hall to escape the chaos, his mind reeling from the sheer amount of destruction and the number of deaths he saw around him. In the Great Hall, Severus sitting in the Head Master's chair. The ashen faced boy was oblivious to the large snake that was wrapped around the chair, its mouth open as though to strike at the boy's neck, as he was intently focusing on the grinning Death Eaters. The Death Eaters were sitting at the Staff Table, loudly and jovially commenting on how well the Cruciatus Curse was being applied to Neville Longbottom by Gregory Goyle._

_Neville, for a wonder, wasn't screaming, but instead he was staring with hate filled eyes at Severus._

_"Fifteen points to the Slytherin House," Bellatrix LeStrange laughingly announced. Her insane cackle filled the air, and Filius couldn't help but protest the madness._

_"Severus! What the bloody hell is going on?" Filius shouted. "Why aren't you doing anything to stop this insanity?"_

_"Head Master Snape," stated Alecto Carrow. Her misshapen, twisted face was full of demonic glee, as she smiled. "Learn the proper respect for your betters, little man!"_

_She was casting an Unforgiveable Curse, directing it towards him, and Filius couldn't find his wand. The curse was about to land when he felt someone grab him by his collar, and with an agonizing twist that nearly tore every organ in his body, he found himself in a dark hallway. It was a small hallway, and his rescuer was intently pulling his hand, implying that Filius was to follow him._

_There was the slight smell of brimstone. His rescuer smelled of brimstone… sandalwood… incense… ash… Filius smelled __**ashes**_

_Filius knew well the overpowering smell of ashes, but he hadn't smelt such a combination in decades… the hand that was holding his was wearing a small gold ring on his pinky, and he then knew who had rescued him._

_"Ibrahim Masood!" Filius softly questioned. "Why are__** you**__ haunting my dreams? Is Trilochan too busy playing Jnana Baji with Utta? Or is tonight, Pachisi night with Indira and Shalini?"_

_Ibrahim put his icy fingers over Filius' mouth to silence him, and then motioned for the Charms Instructor to continue to follow him. The two turned a corner, and Filius saw Minerva and himself, standing near a bed. There was a figure on the bed, and Minerva was nodding her head in agreement. Carefully, she picked up the bed sheets and then deliberately, she pulled it over the prone figure, covering its head._

_"Leave the light on, Min. I'll sit with him," whispered Filius. "It wouldn't be right to leave him in the dark… alone… He died alone… after all I had promised…"_

_"I wasn't planning on leaving, love," Minerva agreed. "I broke my promise also…"_

_"Thank you for helping me… clean him," Filius' voice broke then, and Minerva then embraced the sobbing mage. "Wouldn't be right…"_

_They sat together for a bit, sitting up with their dead, until both fell asleep. Ibrahim then walked over to the bed, and he imperiously pointed at the sheet covered figure, then at Filius before he made a pulling gesture._

_"I need to see who it is?" Filius softly questioned._

_Ibrahim nodded once and Filius steeled his heart._

_"Is this a dream or portent?" asked the Charms Instructor. "Are you warning me of what might happen? Must this event happen? Should it be avoided?"_

_Ibrahim didn't answer; instead he just intently stared at Filius, who had just enough of the taciturn Masood. _

"_I'm__** demanding**__ an answer from you! Ibrahim Ahmed Mohammed Masood, husband of Noor Fatima Masood, father of Mohammed Shujaat Masood, I __**compel**__ you by __**your name**__ to answer me!"_

_All the good his compelling did, was earn him a sardonic quirk of Masood's left eyebrow, and a shake of his head. That's not how it works, Ibrahim was plainly saying._

_"You can't blame a mage for trying," Filius hissed. _

_Carefully, he pulled back the sheets to reveal an ashen Severus Snape. The boy was ice cold, his eyes closed and there was an eerie smile on his face. The boy was obviously as peace, for the first time that Filius had known him. A thin ribbon around his neck showed that Severus had at last been honored with the Order of Merlin, 1__st__ Class._

"_He looks happy, Ibrahim! How can this be?" questioned the Charms Master. _

_The Indian mage responded note, instead he was still pointing at Severus._

_The corpse had been lovingly cleaned, and Severus wore his traditional black robes, though he was being buried with all the regalia of a sitting Head Master. The Head Master staff, the keys to Hogwarts and the roster of students had been placed just so, ready for his use, and his wand, the wand that had traveled such a crooked path from Ollivander's Shoppe, at last, had been broken in half, and it was in his hands._

_"I tested him with your wand, Ibrahim, and it worked for him. The boy reminded me so much of you that I had thought it would be a good match. He gave honor to your wand, Ibrahim." _

_He was still staring at the corpse, attempting to make sense of this dream, when Ibrahim pointed his finger at the lad's neck. There were puncture marks on his neck, and Filius recognized the tell-tale bite._

_"Nāga." Filius whispered._

_"We are still bound here, until our debt to you is paid. There are limits… on us…what we can say… but I can tell you this. Heed the warnings of your heart, Garuda," his long dead friend whispered. "The wheel turns, and what has ended, begins anew."_

_Then with a burst of flame, Ibrahim Ahmed Mohammed Masood immolated himself. _

"NOO!" Filius screamed as the mage burned to ash in front of him. "Ibrahim! How do I prevent this?"

"Shhh…" said a female voice. "You're in Hogwarts. You're not in India…"

His heart was pounding, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. Min… that was her name… was rubbing his back, gently in smooth circles, while her voice softly droned, assuring him that he was safe.

"Min…" Filius whispered. "I had such a horrible dream. There were monsters in the Hogwarts, Death Eaters sitting at the Great Hall, students were casting the Cruciatus Curse on other students. Severus was Head Master…"

He was shivering from the fear, and Filius felt the mattress shift.

"Move over, love," Minerva whispered. "I know you don't like being held, but I will sleep next to you."

"I shouldn't be dreaming," murmured Filius. "I need to check Severus' Dream Catcher wards. The dreams should have been contained by them. Ibrahim… he said that I needed… to heed…"

He was falling asleep, his body so heavy that he couldn't keep his eyes open. Minerva was positioning herself behind his back, and he instinctively reached for her hand. Grasping it, he pulled it close to him, allowing him that much physical reassurance.

"Shhh…" Minerva whispered.

The blanket was being positioned just so by Minerva, but by then Filius knew no more.

* * *

Refusing to admit to his mental and physical exhaustion meant that Severus Snape strode through the hallways of Hogwarts. It was nearly five in the morning, and while he needed to contact Albus regarding the night's activities, he believed that it wasn't necessary to wake the older mage. His report could wait until morning, well, until later that morning. 

Salazar was sleeping, and the portrait gave a sleepy nod of his head in greeting when Severus opened the door to his quarters. He wasn't surprised to see that no one was waiting for him, as he had successfully alienated his support team, though he had to admit that he was slightly… hurt.

Not even _**Albus**_ had apparently cared enough to see that he was back.

He was turning into a Hufflepuff!

Angrily, he denounced his emotional weakness, even as he hid his robes and mask.

Hopefully, two hours of sleep should be enough to keep him upright today.

He walked into his bed room, and to his surprise, there was a flickering candle by his bedside. Minerva and Filius were _**IN HIS BED**_, curled up underneath his blankets, looking particularly snug. There were enough bits to showing for him to see that they were fully clothed, though he had to fight back his bitter jealousy to notice that they were, in fact, clothed.

"Get in bed, lad," whispered Minerva. "Filius has not had a good night, so be prepared for him to thrash."

"I'll sleep on the couch," Severus offered in a low tone.

"What's all this bloody palaver? Just get in the damn bed, Sev," Filius softly murmured. "Else I'll hex you."

"It appears that some one is rather cranky due to lack of sleep," snippily retorted Minerva. "Now get into the damn bed."

He was too tired to protest, so he crawled into the bed, putting his back towards Filius, making it a Filius sandwich of sorts.

"I'm still bloody pissed at you, lad," Filius whispered in his ear. "Acting like a daft prat, doubting our friendship. Then you scare me shitless, by getting summoned and taking your own damn sweet time to return. We'll hammer it all out tomorrow, after I kick your bloody arse around the Quidditch Pitch for putting me through bloody hell, but now I'm too tired for tact."

With that expression of heartfelt endearment, Filius was soon back to sleep. Minerva was deeply asleep also, so no one saw that there was the slightest smile on the slumbering Severus' face.

* * *

A/N #2 – Remember Sel had promised you a MM/FF/SS bedroom scene…. ;) Shame on you all for what you were thinking. FF doesn't do that. 


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer # 1 – not my characters. Not making any money. Just playing with them, abusing them and then putting them back together better than before.

A/N # 1 – this chapter is mainly Filius centric, as I'm giving him visions of my version of that blood bath better known to most as Deathly Hallows, aka "The Solitary Man and the Dangerous Duo". It may never come to fruition, but Selmak wants to rewrite it. So prophecies, dreams, and cryptic comments abound plus a liberal dash of snark. Tune into the next chapter if you're not into that, as hopefully there will be shagging, snogging and snark! Oh, and Umbridge baiting! We've left her alone for far too long!

The italics are to separate the watchers from the dreamers. I hope that makes it clearer, as there are times when the Dream Filius is speaking verses the Watching Filius.

Daily Prophet Editor, I dressed Min as you requested. I hope you and your wife like.

Sel

* * *

His dark dreams were still troubled, and Filius was unsurprised when he dreamt of Shalini Kumari Chauhan and Noor Masood. 

"_Namasté," he softly greeted the two women._

_To his deep surprise, both women normally not very demonstrative, kissed and then tightly hugged him. He could physically feel them, smell Shalini's exotic perfume of jasmine and sandalwood, and even feel the silk of Noor's salwar kameez when they embraced._

_Shalini appeared sadden, but she held out her hand to him._

_"First Ibrahim, now you two lovely ladies. What horrors will I see with you?" Filius sorrowfully whispered. "I know, you can't tell me anything. But I've so missed you two."  
_

_Both women held his hands, and they walked into the Great Hall. His heart shattered when he looked upon a scene directly from deepest, dark pit of Hell. His breathing quickened as the sight overwhelmed him, shattering his composure as he wanted nothing more to do than vomit. Filius pulled away, wanting to retreat from the horror he was witnessing, yet the two women held onto his hands tightly._

_"Must I?" Filius plaintively whispered. He beseeching looked up at the two women, silently pleading with them that he did not have to witness more.  
_

"_Yes," Noor whispered. "Come, you must see this."_

_"I'm afraid…" he quietly whispered that admission, willing to admit his terror to these two souls with whom he shared their veyry own personal hell. "Why must this horror come to pass at Hogwarts? Is it not enough to live through such awfulness once? Ibrahim showed me something else… Which dream is true? Will you not tell me?"_

_"Your atman is strong, Filius-ji. I have never met a soul as strong as yours." Shalini gently informed him, refusing to answer his questions. "Come, you must witness this."  
_

"_You are not alone," Noor gently reminded him. Her voice was gentle and soothing. "Shalini and I are both here with you, and you are truly not there. Remember that."_

_"Very well," stated the Charms Instructor with a calmness that he didn't possess. As a long time teacher of underaged witches and wizards, he had long since learned how to bluff. One never admitted one's fear to a student. "Sooner done, sooner ended."_

He Who Must Not be Named, sitting in the Head Master's chair.

Severus, standing on that monster's right side, in a place of honor. _**HONOR!**_

Minerva, brave, beautiful Minerva, defiant to the very end, refusing to admit her fear. There was a small, elderly wizard standing next to Minerva, his spirit broken, but still determined to fight on. It was… him… Filius realized, for the first time realizing how old and small he truly was. They were the only two instructors that managed to stand to face their captors; the others were huddled on the floor behind them as though Minerva and Filius would be able to shield them. Pomona… POMONA… a bloody, battered, broken mess was silently sobbing; the victim of far too many hexes, and Vector was holding her tightly.

"Miss McGonagall, how delightful to see my former classmate," hissed the reptilian monster. His red eyes gleamed madly, and there was an eerie smile on his face. Carefully, he placed his index finger on Minerva's cheek, and he deliberately, obscenely traced her jawline down to her neck… then down further to the very first button on her shirt. "Let us rekindle our fond memories of Hogwarts…"

Minerva was stanch, refusing to confess to any weakness, any sign of uneasiness. Instead, she stared directly in He Who Must Not Be Named's eyes.

"I failed to recollect anything like this happening between us when we were students, Tom." Her voice was strong, and unwavering.

Bloody hell, Minerva was now channeling Albus Dumbledore. He Who Must Not Be Named's anger over her refusal to be coerced caused him to pop off the top button from her shirt.

"In fact, I know for a fact that I was rather sexually repulsed by you, Tom, and made every effort to flee from your presence." She stated that in ringing tones, and the witch still refused to show any distress over where his hand was located. "Sadly, time has not been kind to you or your appearance."

"Minerva, no!" Filius whispered. "Don't anger him."

"Let me make the bitch pay!" shrilly screamed Bellatrix LeStrange. The deranged witch was literally foaming at the mouth due to Minerva' impudence toward her beloved Master.

"No," Severus quietly inserted. "Need I remind you, Bellatrix, that your sister always remarked on how you had a tendency of breaking her toys beyond repair when you were younger?"

"Let me kill the goblin then, he's not even pure human, let alone pure blood," Bellatrix decided. "I can make the goblin bawl for mercy. Perhaps, his screams will ensure that the Gryffindor bitch will be more cooperative. I'd like to see the puffed-up bitch rolling in the dirt along with her mudblood friends and her goblin lover."

"No, Bellatrix. I was promised both of them for services rendered," Severus' tone was sharp as he reminded her. "They're _**mine**_."

"You'll get her after I'm done with her," hissed Voldemort. "For years, I've dreamed of wiping that haughty look off your face. I'll make you scream, Minerva McGonagall. Think of it, Minerva, your fellow instructors, your few remaining students will see a whole new side of you…After I've broken you, I'll give you and the goblin to dear, faithful Severus."

With a casual malevolence, He Who Must Not Be Named popped another button off her shirt, and pushed her onto the Staff Table. Filius was horrified when he realized that his awareness was now sliding into the Filius who had front row seats to Minerva's imminent violation.

"You may break my body, you will never break my soul, Tom," she bravely insisted.

"Noble, though rather trite, sentiments," drawled He Who Must Not Be Named as he popped another button off Minerva's blouse.

Filius glared at Severus, saw that the boy was uncaringly watching the scene unfold, and then their eyes met. Severus' black eyes were blazing with hate, and Filius knew then that Severus was still Dumbledore's man.  
_**  
We must save her!**_

He heard Severus in his head, and instinctively, Filius pulled all his magic together. Wandless, he might not be able to do much, but Severus had his wand, a rather remarkable wand with a distinct mind of its own.

_**On the count of three, one, two… three**__…._ Filius thought.

"Avada Kedavra!" The two wizards screamed their spell, and an unholy amount of power blazed from Severus' wand which was augmented by Filius' contribution. There was a rushing noise and a bright green flash. It hit He Who Must Not be Named right in the chest, and the result was everything for which Filius had dared to hope. The monster fell over, quite utterly dead, a rather anticlimax end to his reign of terror. Minerva took great delight in pushing him off her, so that he landed on the floor with a splat.

There was a pregnant moment of stunned silence, and then utter chaos. Severus, his wand shattered by the sheer amount of will he had poured into it, was cut down where he stood by an irate Bellatrix. A wandless Filius knew what was to happen next, and took no steps to prevent it, as he'd meet his death proud, his head unbowed.

Hearing the rushing noise, seeing the green flash as it enveloped him, hearing each synapse in his body shrieking in agony…

With a yank, he found himself in bed, screaming.

"Filius?" A female asked him. "Filius, whatever is the matter?"

"Minerva?" Filius whispered.

Someone was rolling off the bed, muttering assorted Muggle courses about curry-eating, nightmare-inducing Indian Mages, but Filius ignored him. His eyes were tightly closed, and he was shivering.

"Aye, it's me," Minerva assured him. Her Scottish accent was heavy, and she was whispering words of comfort, even while she pulled the heavy blanket over him.

"Sit him up, he needs to drink this," said a male.

"No…" Filius protested. "I won't wake…No dreams…"

"Yes, that's right, when you drink this, you won't dream at all…" the male assured him, obviously misunderstanding what Filius was attempting to tell him. "Drink all of it. It's extra strong, so you'll sleep for longer."

The vial was placed against his lips, and Severus and Minerva managed to force him to drink the potion.

_**Fools! These aren't dreams! They're signs and portents!**_

* * *

Filius was deeply sleeping; his subconscious knew that he was exhausted and needed his rest, which is why he sighed when he saw two familiar ghosts. 

"_The odd couple is haunting me now," he growled. "Though that tartan pattern will give me nightmares for the next millennia. Utta, tartan?"_

_Utta Singh glanced at his kurta pajamas, the top a tartan of heather purple, green, grey, red and yellow. He then glanced with slight disapproval at his fellow specter's white robe._

_"You're dead, Trilochan, you could have put a splash of color in your robe. But since I'm in Scotland, Filius, I figured I should dress as a native," the Sikh cheerfully explained. "I preferred the Singh tartan. Do you like it?"_

_The Sikh smiled brightly, as he modeled the tartan for Filius._

_"Remind me to thank the various gods that you have never met Minerva, as she would be having a catnip induced conniption over that tartan. She's a purist." Filius retorted. "Why are you and Trilochan running amuck in my psyche?"  
_  
_"Ibrahim reported that you are more receptive to hearing us tonight, as your buried memories have been stirred," Trilochan stated. "So we all decided to pounce on you."_

"_Great, I've been visited by the spirit of Christmas Past, two ghosts of Christmas Present and now the two specters of Christmas Yet to Come have decided to both tag team me," growled the Charms Instructor. "What do you two want? Don't you have better things to do? Aren't you all in your respective heavens?"_

_"Christmas Past?" Utta questioned. The rather confused Sikh looked at the Jain for an explanation._

"_A man is visited by the ghosts of his Christmas Past, Christmas Present and Christmas Yet to Come, and he experiences visions that profoundly affect him," the Jain patiently explained._

_The Sikh still looked rather doubtful. "Visions? Most people don't admit to having visions. People might decide you're a Seer, and most Seers are charlatans, tricksters! But visions of Christmas? That is in December, is it not? It is … October… I believe… though I must confess that I do get confused about time these days. It's all the same, really. Days, weeks, years… when you're dead, time matters little."_

_"They're from a rather well known book, Utta. It's called "A Christmas Carol in Prose, Being a Ghost Story of Christmas". You know, a book, pages with writing on them, sometimes it even has pretty pictures at which to look?" Trilochan dryly explained._

_"I know what a book is, I read the Guru Granth Sahib faithfully. But that book, it sounds like something that belongs in Indira's library," Utta snorted. "I'm a fighter, Trilochan, not a scholar."_

_Filius shook his head, his eyes filling with tears at the familiar sound of the two Indians verbally bickering. The two men had a bond of brothership that far eclipsed their religious and ethical differences, and they expressed their closeness in an extraordinarily unique way._

_"Look, Utta, your outlandish tartan has wounded our noble Garuda's eyes!" Trilochan protested. "But now, brother, our time is growing short. We must explain to him why we are here."_

_"Filius, we are still connected to the earthly realm," Utta explained in a tone that was stripped of his usual jocularity. "We can not move on yet. There is still much karma to be resolved."_

_"Open your third eye, Garuda," Trilochan insisted. The Jain touched Filius' forehead in the general area of his ajna chakra. "You must face your fears, Garuda."_

_"The wheel turns, and where you once were, you will be again," the Sikh entoned._

_"I have to return to India?" Filius questioned. "Let me guess, you can't tell me. You're going to be closemouthed and cryptic."  
_

"_Trilochan? Closemouthed?" Uttamjodh Singh barked a loud laugh. "I've seen rocks crawl away from him when he gets talking on a subject that is dear to him. But yes, Trilochan is cryptic. He delights in crypticism."  
_

"_Is that even a word?" Trilochan dryly questioned. "But yes, you were visited by Ibrahim, Shalini and Noor this evening. No doubt they did not tell you anything useful."_

_Utta dryly inserted, "They would follow the prohibitions. Such sticklers for rules and regulations, I hope that they at least pointed out what they you needed to know."_

_"You two were never ones to follow the rules, nor where either ever one for proper behavior," Filius reminded them. "Indira either. Is she showing up later?"_

_"No, because if she desires to talk to you, she can use a mirror. When we wish to talk to you, we need to do this. If you'd only return to India for a brief visit, we could talk to you directly," Utta explained._

"_It is not time for Garuda to return to India. Vishnu still lives and Durga has not come into her power," Triolochan stated._

_"Can someone explain to his poor Sikh why a Jain seer sees Hindu Gods and Goddesses in these particular prophecies?" Utta beseeched. For added snark, he looked to the skies and held up his hands in an entreating manner. "I am just a fighter, and of limited comprehension. Please, enlighten me in small words, two syllables or less!"_

"_I'm being given what I can understand," Triolochan calmly stated. "It appears that my third eye is cloudy."_

"_With a one hundred percent chance of a monsoon," Utta snarked._

"_I don't know why I'm seeing Hindu Gods and Goddesses in these particular visions," Trilochan continued as though Utta had not given voice to his cutting remark. "As soon as I can, I will ask someone. I just need to find whoever is in charge."_

_"You're ghosts?" Filius interrupted the Bickersons._

_The two Indian instructors uncertainly glanced at each other, and then they looked at Filius._

"_Not exactly," was Utta's explanation. "We are, but we aren't, we're dead but still stuck fast in the physical realm."_

"_Shalini's doing, she died first," Trilochan stated. "Guardians might be a better description than ghosts."_

_"But still completely inadequate," chimed in the Sikh._

_"Can you just show me what you need to show me? As much as I'm enjoying your Punch and Judy routine, I fear what I will see with you two. I've noticed that the visions have gotten progressively darker," Filius argued.  
_

"_Punch and Judy?" Uttamjodh softly questioned. The Jain looked perplexed at Filius' jest and didn't answer._

_"Hold our hands, Garuda," Trilochan ordered. "Yes, you are correct. Each revelation has gotten darker, and this is the worst yet. We decided that only Utta and I were brave enough to show you this."_

"_Understand, what you are seeing is only possibilities of what may occur," Utta explained. "Reflect deeply on what you see, and you may be given wisdom to change what may happen."_

_"I can prevent Severus' death?" Filius questioned._

_"What may happened may yet happen, and yet may not," Trilochan inserted. "Don't be vexed, Filius. We are limited in what we can do."  
_  
Filuis found himself in Hogwarts. A white haired Mohammed Masood was standing at the front door of Hogwars and he was knocking on the doors with a large staff. Perhaps knocking wasn't the right term, as he was steadily pounding on the door with the staff, causing it to shudder from the impact. He was wearing a black sherwani, embroidered in silver, and he wore a silver stole. Filius' sharp eyes saw that he was wearing a small eagle pin.

"_Shiva with the crescent moon, garlanded in snakes," Trilochan intoned._

_"Fascinating, Shiva and Agni sharing common similarities, yet not. And the crescent moon symbolizing his faith in Islam? Amazing, maybe the voices in your head do know what they're talking about! But the garland of snakes? Mohammed hates snakes and he is uncomfortable so much as speaking to Amanbir Kaur and her fellow converts," Utta reminded Trilochan who counseled him to patience. _

_"Mohammed's Head Master? What happened to Kritika?" Filius intently questioned.  
_

"_Mohammed is at least a decade older than he is today, perhaps Kritika stepped down and returned to teaching. The transition is not unheard of in our school," Utta explained_.

A small squat figure opened the door, and she appeared disgruntled.

"What do you want, Paki?" hissed Alecto Carrow. "Must you keep knocking?"

"I am Mohammed Masood and I wish to speak to Filius Flitwick. It is a matter of some urgency," Mohammed explained. His voice turned cold when he spat, "I am not Paki. I would have stopped knocking, but after thirty minutes of my knocking at your door and not being given entrance, it became a matter of principle. Will you give me welcome, witch? Or are your manners as foul as your appearance."

"_Our sweet Mohammed's developed a nasty streak since he got promoted," Utta dryly remarked. "Plus the boy is carrying a blasting staff. That's sheer and utter recklessness. Knocking on the door with a blasting staff, he could have easily blown the door down!"_

"On behalf of Head Master Snape, I welcome you to Hogwarts, Paki," Alecto spat.

_"She just made an immense blunder," Utta the tactician pointed out. "Years from now, people will remark on that as a truly colossal mistake, and possibly the turning part in the War Yet to Come. Bequeathing a Head Master's Welcome to a Gate Master? Tsk, tsk, tsk. He's just been given free passage to enter Hogwarts for as long as Severus Snape is Head Master."_

"_Be glad that she's as dense as she is ugly," Trilochan chastised Utta. "Wars have been won for the lack of proper care for a horse."_

The two mages walked into the school, and Minerva McGonagall was running toward the door. It was obvious that she was concentrating on thwarting any magical altercations between Alecto and Mohammed.

"Mohammed Masood?" She questioned. "What are you doing here?"

"_Durga has arrived," Trilochan whispered. "Shiva and Durga meeting at the eyrir of Garuda. It has begun."  
_

"Namasté, Minerva," Masood greeted her warmly. "I need to speak to Filius. The mirrors have been broken, and we have not been able to contact him through our normal means. It is a matter of some urgency."

"Please get Filius, Alecto. Advise him that Mohammed Masood wishes to speak to him," Minerva politely requested.

"No," panted the recently arrived Amycus Carrow. "You know that all visitors must be cleared through Head Master Snape. I'll inform him that we've got a dot head mage here."

"First I'm a Paki, now I'm a dot head," Mohammed growled. "Minerva, if you wish escape from this fetid, ill-omened school, I can offer you a position at my school. We would treat you with the respect you have earned."

"Thank you for your considerate offer, Mohammed. I find that I must stay here for my students' sake. You can understand that reasoning?" Minerva softly queried.

The Muslim mage made a curious gesture, and bowed. "It is the most honorable of reasons."

"I'll get Filius, you stay. Ignore her, she's the product of too much inbreeding," Minerva whispered loudly.

Mohammed quirked a slight smile at Alecto's angry face and he nodded his head.

"I'll keep him entertained with my pet," Alecto announced. "My sweet little anaconda here. I remember how much Paki mages love snakes."

It was a meter long anaconda that slithered toward Mohammed. Minerva inhaled sharply, knowing the Indian's dislike of snakes and Mohammed smiled at Minerva. He lost his smile when he looked at Alecto.

"Let me introduce you to my friends," he hissed. "Come now, it's time to introduce yourself."

A large python's head peeked out from the collar of his sherwani. It flicked its tongue at Mohammed and then waited, as if asking for permission.

"Yes, you can play with her little snake. Just don't hurt it, it's such a very small snake compared to you, my friend." Mohammed then smiled at Minerva. "Do not fear, Minerva. I will peacefully await your return with Filius-ji."

The python slithered out from his collar, reaching an impossible five meters in length when she had finally finished crawling out of Mohammed's clothes.

_"He's wearing a modified Moleskin bag. He put Amanbir Kaur in the bag!" Utta crowed. "I knew that boy was too smart to walk into such an obvious trap! And if he has one python in the bag, he's probably brought the entire strike team with him!"_

There were a few other smaller snakes sliding out from Mohammed's empty sleeve, and Mohammed smiled.

"_YES! He's brought the complete strike team with him!" Utta excitedly exclaimed._

"I've got more friends than you do, witch," Masood proudly murmured. "Must be my pleasant disposition, or more likely, because I bathe on a regular basis. Is hygiene no longer taught at this star-crossed school?"

Filius watched as he arrived, saw his doppelganger's face pale when he saw the half dozen snakes on the floor, an anaconda, a python and four King Cobras, 'standing', their hoods open.

"Mohammed? Why are you here?" Filius questioned.

"She is dying and wishes to see you once more," Mohammed tersely explained. "Come, we must go."

"Indira? How much time?" questioned Filius.

"I have squandered much of her limited time dealing with fools. Come, we must go!" Mohammed commanded. He held out his hand to Filius. "Grab my hand; I will take you to her."

"He can't leave. He needs the Head Master's approval to leave the building," Alecto gleefully reminded Minerva. "The Head Master is in a meeting, and won't be free to give his permission for some time. Perhaps hours. Too bad it might be too late for your friend, Flitwick."

Minerva looked at the furious Masood and then she glanced at a very anguished looking Filius.

"Min, it's imperative that I see Indira before she dies! I can't wait for him to get out of his meeting!"

"Go, Filius, go! I give you permission. If he has a problem with you leaving Hogwarts, he can take it out on me!" Minerva's voice rang in the entry way, and Mohammed nodded his head.

There was a drawing of wands aimed at the Indian mage as more Death Eaters arrived, and in response, Mohammed gave a quick gesture. The snakes transformed into five Sikhs mages, all of whom were tattooed with snakes. Each mage wore a wand, plus held a blasting staff ready for use.

"My children, it is long past time to leave this pit," Mohammed calmly stated. "With the death of Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts is no longer as welcoming as it once was."

The strike team backed away from the Death Eaters, protectively surrounding Mohammed and Filius.

"Minerva, remember, the offer for employment will remain open," Mohammed assured her. "Forgive me for leaving you this mess to deal with, but you will understand in time, and in fact, I promise that you will laugh."

The Sikhs had backed even closer to Masood, until they tightly surrounded Mohammed and Filius. With a loud crack, Masood spontaneously immolated, and when the fire was gone, he, Filius and the Sikhs were long gone.

"Minerva McGonagall! What is going on?" Head Master Snape's voice cracked as he entered the room. "I will have _**order**_ in my school! What is this madness of an Indian mage insulting my staff members?"

"Mohammed was the absolute model of politeness to me," Minerva retorted. "Was there a personality clash with Masood, Alecto?"

"_Time to leave," Trilochan advised. "I know it's getting extremely exciting, but we have to follow Masood."_

With a blink, they were gone, and then they were standing in a small, dark alcove watching the action unfold. Mohammed had collapsed on the floor, and the various mages were attempting to revive him.

"What happened?" a white haired Yukiro Tanaka intently questioned. "Should you not be in your anamagi forms?"

"_Hanuman," Trilochan explained. _

"_He's the Monkey God?" Utta exclaimed in disbelief. "Ah! Amenoudume the demiguise!" _

"We had problems with the greeting party," Amanbir quickly explained to Yukiro. "We didn't have time to transform, so he had to bring us all here as we are. Head Master Snape had arrived and the other faculty members had drawn their wands on Mohammed. It was a tense situation."

"Yuri?" Tanaka commanded. "See if you can revive him. Time is short, and we need his Fiendfire to destroy the archives."

"What the bloody hell is going on here? Mohammed told me I was going to India! Yet, I'm in Moscovy Archives? Is Indira here? I thought she was dying?" Filius, while small, had a very loud voice which he used as necessary. Now was such a time.

Yuri, amazingly, had gray hair, growled and shook his head. "Masood said to you that you had to come with him as she was dying. We were quite specific in our message, as Mohammed refused to lie. He never said India and we can't help it if you inferred that Indira was dying."

"_Jambavantha the bear!" exclaimed Utta, glad to finally obtain a point in naming the various agents of Trilochan's prophecy._

_"Pretty obvious," Trilochan dismissively sniffed.  
_  
"Who's dying then?" Filius questioned. He was sitting next to an unconscious Mohammed, and he was still attempting to rouse the mage. "Why am I here?"

"It's Minerva," Tanaka curtly explained. "Leave Mohammed to Yuri's care. You need to see Minerva. That's why we brought you here."

"I just left her, and she was fine! Did Severus and the Death Eaters hurt her after I left? I'll kill him if he harmed her!" Filius threatened.

"Severus? Friend Filius, you must understand, it is not the same year that you left. A great many things have changed since then," Tanaka's voice was apologetic. "She'll explain it to you, if you will just hurry. She truly doesn't have much time, and Mohammed is several hours later than we expected him. Carrying the weight of six mages is not easy, Filius."

"What bloody year is this?" Filius demanded. "Will someone explain to me what is happening?"

"2012," Yuri explained. "My dear friend, I can assure you that everything has gone completely and utterly to hell."

Filius stood then, and he wiped his hands on his robes.

"Very well then, take me to Minerva," he decided. "Perhaps she'll explain to me what happened."

Yukiro gently took his hand in his, and he Apparated. They found themselves in front of a closed door. The Japanese mage knocked softly and queried if Minerva was available for visitors.

"Come in," was the response.

Filius entered the room, and he was immediately engulfed in a bear hug by a very emotional Rolanda Hooch.

"Fi!" The Flying Instructor wept. "Oh Merlin's scrote, Fi!"

"He's here to see Minerva, Rolanda. Don't say anything," Tanaka reminded her. "You have to go now. They need your help in the archives."

Rolanda gave Filius another rib crushing hug and then she left the room.

"I'll leave you two alone."

Minerva was sitting in a chair, dozing in the warmth of the afternoon sun, and he nearly wept when he saw her. It was obvious to Filius that Minerva was quite ill, a shade of her former glorious self. To his bitter amusement, she was wearing a scarlet and gold sari, Gryffindor to the very end. Her graying hair was neatly braided in a long plait, and she wore a bindi. Some one had gone to the problem of finding a jasmine flower to place in her hair.

"Gone native, have we love?" he whispered.

"Filius?" Minerva whispered, her eyes still closed. "Albus? Is that really him? My mind plays tricks on me."

There was a small picture of Albus Dumbledore on the table closest to Minerva, and the portrait of the Head Master assured her that Filius was real.

"Thank you," she whispered, before she swallowed. It was with an almost noticeable effort that Minerva opened her eyes. "As the Veil lifts, I hear voices from my past. Sometimes, I hear Severus, and he's still as caustic as ever. He's quite vexed with me and Albus, and I can't blame him. On occasion, I've heard you, and I was afraid to open my eyes because you wouldn't be there."

"Min," Filius whispered, as he took her fragile hand in his. "What is happening? Why am I here?"

"Listen, I don't have a great deal of time left. They tell me that I'll pass over today or tomorrow. I ask Mohammed to bring you here, so I can warn you. When Hogwarts is attacked, you are _**NOT**_to kill Severus. It's imperative that you don't. He's Dumbledore's man, through and through and he strove to protect the students. Don't kill him, Filius."

That speech took all of her effort, and Minerva dozed for a bit while he stroked her hand. When she woke, she began to explain the current situation.

"What you see is the last of the resistance. When Hogwarts fell, India took what remained of Hogwarts in because of their debt to you. Voldemort attacked them next, and we've been slowly driven back to here. The Colonies have fallen, and this was the very last stand for us. Voldemort has us surrounded, and it's been decided that we need to burn the Archives to the ground, so he can't get his hands on what we have here. All the known magic of the ages, Filius, we have to destroy it!"

Minerva broke into tears, and Filius gently embraced her.

"Mohammed and Yukiro will take you back home. It's the last thing I can do for you."

He continued to hold her in silence, until she spoke her last.

"Merlin's scrote, I've missed you so much, Filius. Why did you have to break your wand after you killed him? I lost both of you when Hogwarts fell."

* * *

A/N #2 – the 2nd part of Trilochan's prophecy includes. 

_Vishnu the preserver of the universe__ - Albus Dumbledore_

_Shiva, the Destroyer (of evil) - Mohammed Masood_

_Durga, the warrior aspect of DeviParvati who just happens to rides a lion__ (no snarky comments now!)– Minerva McGonagall_

_Hanuman, the Monkey God who is also considered as the incarnation of Shiva__ – Yukiro Tanaka_

_Jambavantha, King of Bears - Yuri, the Mad Bear Mage of Russia_


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer # 1 – not my characters. Not making any money. Just playing with them, abusing them and then putting them back together better than before.

A/N # 1 - Alas, Selmak promised you plenty of shagging, snogging and snark in this chapter, but unfortunately, there's none of that. Instead may she hesitantly present a healthy amount of angst as the rather strained relationship between Severus and Filius needed to be soothed?

A/N # 2 – Credit for discovering the Sikh tartan in the previous chapter goes to the Daily Prophet Editor. Sel was a bad little symbiote and forgot to credit him. There's actually at least two different Sikh based tartans in the Scottish Tartan Authority registry. That was your Selmak enforced trivia for today. Who says fanfic can't be educational? Thank you for reading!

We left our intrepid Filius experiencing a portent involving an older Minerva at the Moscovy Archives.

* * *

"_Mohammed and Yukiro will take you back home. It's the last thing I can do for you."_

_Filius continued to hold his dear Minerva in silence, until she spoke once more._

"_Merlin's scrote, I've missed you so much, Filius. Why did you have to break your wand after you killed him? I lost both of you when Hogwarts fell."_

_The palpable grief in Minerva's voice nearly undid his composure. As it was, Filius' grieving mind was screaming, attempting to understand what was happening. Where were Trilochan and Utta? Why was he here? Rather than just watching? Filius felt as though he had been karmically bitch-slapped by a six armed goddess and then, for good measure, spun like the proverbial top. What the bloody hell was going on? Why couldn't he wake from this nightmare? _

_Yuri then entered Minerva's room. The bulky mage softly apologized for interrupting them, and then he gently spoke to Minerva._

"_It's time, Minerva. Puzhalsta." The mage's deep voice was unexpectedly solemn as he handed her a glass. _

"_Spasiba," Minerva politely thanked the mage._

_"Puzhalsta," Yuri graciously repeated, and then he leaned over Minerva to kiss her on her cheek. "We need Filius now."_

_"I want to speak to him for just a moment longer. Then I'll send him to you. Would you mind waiting outside? This is a private matter," she requested. Though Minerva was ill, her voice still held the snap of command. The Scottish witch was comfortable with being obeyed unconditionally, and in spite of the minor fact that she was dying; Minerva still demanded that traditional courtesy._

_"Very well, but our time is short, Minerva," Yuri kindly reminded her._

_"So is mine," she tartly retorted with grim humor, with barely a glimmer of her former spark. "Especially with this particular cocktail in my hand. Now get out of my room!"_

_Yuri quickly exited, and Minerva quickly drank from the glass._

"_Nasty," she spat. "That concoction was truly wicked. I don't have a great deal of time, Filius, so listen to me very carefully. Be wary of Mohammed and Tanaka. They're not the men you knew, Mohammed had a breakdown after India fell…"_

"_I know, I was there," Filius stated. "It was months before the lad would talk. I didn't know you knew about that episode."_

_"No, you __**weren't**__ there, Filius. India fell to the Inferi after Hogwarts was overrun. Masood has long conversations with the Mumbai Six, in particular Trilochan. Tanaka has accepted these spiritual conversations as the Gospel truth and he freely uses Mohammed as a medium to discuss strategy with Utta Sikh. You know I couldn't stomach Sibyll's sherry infused Divinations, but __**Necromancy**__? Tanaka's always been too fond of the esoteric, and he's gotten worse in his old age."_

_Minerva dramatically shuddered._

"_I've always believed in practical, rational use of magic. Necromancy is not that. But that damnable dead Jain seer stubbornly insists that what has occurred, what will happen, what might come to pass, all hinges on Severus. Whatever you do, you are not to kill Severus. Albus gave Severus specific instructions, which naturally that daft, damnable, too proud of his own cleverness Dumbledore failed to reveal to any of us. Don't start haranguing me on how the secrecy was necessary, Albus. You're a bloody painting, and while I'm quite weak, I can still easily set you on fire. We __**abandoned**__ the boy to his fate because we didn't know he was still working for you! He played his part too damn well! Filius, what we did to weaken that toad Umbridge was only a drop in the bucket compared to how we systemically undermined Severus when he was Head Master."_

_Albus' somber portrait kept his mouth shut. _

"_You're the only chance we have to prevent this future from happening, Filius. Severus needs to live when Hogwarts is attacked. Now, Filius, find Mohammed and Yukiro. We need to get you back to your proper time," Minerva insisted. "Go, Filius, but know that you go with every blessing I can give you."_

_They hugged once more, and then Yuri interrupted them with a very gruff, "They're at the very gates, Minerva. We need to get Filius out of here before we're overrun as it's only a matter of time before the gates fall."_

"_Go," Minerva insisted. "For what it's worth, take the picture of Albus with you. Perhaps he'll be more cooperative than he was with me, especially now that he knows in no uncertain terms his Grand and Glorious Plan went utterly arse-up."_

"_Minerva, I can't leave you here!" Filius loudly objected, trying to be outtalk Albus' vainly protesting portrait._

_"Fi, I'll be dead shortly, thanks to Yuri's cocktail," she whispered. "Don't be angry with Yuri, it is a great kindness what he prepared for me. Though it wasn't necessary for it to be so bloody tart."_

_"After I deliver Filius, I'll burn your body, Min. I swore to you that the red eyed bastard would never bring you back as an Inferi," Yuri softly reminded the witch._

_"Sweet boy," was her soft response. "Though you still owe me a dance from Filius' birthday party. Damn Severus for scaring you off. He was a jealous lad, and it would have done him no harm to let me dance with you."_

_"After the veil is lifted, Minerva, I'll dance with you then," Yuri assured her. "Filius, I hate to do this, but I need to carry you."_

_The burly mage easily picked up Filius, and he left the room at a fast clip, his effortless, loping stride quickly eating a great deal of ground. The air in the archives was smoky, and Filius began to cough._

_"Do one of your Bubble-Headed charms," Yuri curtly ordered. "I shouldn't have to remind you! The air quality is poor, as Masood's been setting the archives on fire using Fiendfyre. It's damn reckless, but there are no other options. We can't let all the magic of the ages fall into that devil's grasp as there's no telling what horrors he'd create. Also, if you have any Fire prevention spells up your sleeve, I'd suggest you start casting them now."_

_"Minerva stated that Masood had another breakdown?" Filius questioned only after he had cast a Bubble-Head charm and he able to breathe and talk freely. "He talks with the dead now?"_

_Yuri didn't answer for a moment, as he was collecting his thoughts. Many made the mistake of underestimating the so called Crazed Bear Mage of Russia as they were fooled by his brutish appearance. Behind the bearish frame lurked a keen mind. _

"_Most of the Cadre was slaughtered during the massacre at Hogwarts, and Mohammed was then made Head Master. When the Red Eyed Bastard went after India, he used Inferi, and some of them wore familiar faces. As for Mohammed's sanity, would you be completely rational if you had to cast Fiendfyre on your dead friends? If I was Mohammed, I doubt I'd be spiritually strong enough to Fiendfyre Nigel. But Masood burned him to ash, Filius. He kept burning and burning the Inferi, Filius, to ensure that as many as possible could escape from India. It was bravely done, Filius, but at a high cost to his soul."_

_"Fiendfyre? Why not Incendio or Lacarnum Inflammare?" Filius questioned in a flat tone, though truthfully he felt like screaming that inquiry. By Morgana Le Fay's black lacy unmentionables, why must it be fire? He remembered too well what happened at India. The melted stone, the charred remains of the Masoods and Trilochan, the stink of burning flesh… Why not a soaking rain storm? Why not a gentle breeze? Why, why, why must it always end in a fiery inferno?_

"_The Snaky Bastard made some improvements on his army of Inferi. Fiendfyre was the only spell that worked as the old familiar ones didn't distress them at all. Masood had his breakdown after he abandoned the school, and now he channels the dead. I met with Trilochan and Utta several years before the Mumbai Massacre. I know how they talk, how they phrase things, how they bickered constantly. It's __**them**__. There's no doubting it." The mage strongly voiced his conviction._

_Time travel. A grief crazed Fire Mage who was channeling dead people. He Who Must Not Be Named had won the war. He had __**KILLED**__ Severus and then let them cut him down like a dog after he had broken his wand! Minerva had just swallowed a lethal cocktail and plans had been made to prevent her corpse from falling into the hands of the enemy. How the hell could it get worse?_

_Unfortunately, Filius had spoken his dark fears out loud as Yuri had a ready answer._

"_You'll have to be strapped to Tanaka using Amenoudume's flying harness." Yuri admitted. "The ride will be rougher going back than forward, and we don't want to lose you in the currents of time."_

_Bloody hell, he was not going to be tied to Yukiro Tanaka. He didn't like boys that way, and he certainly was not interested in Kinbaku-bi especially with that rather lecherous Japanese mage with the winning smile!_

"_Bollocks! I'm not built like a demiguise! Besides, won't Udume be wearing her harness?" Filius protested._

"_Udume is no longer on this plane of existence," Yuri tersely informed him. "Do not mention her to Tanaka as he was unable to heal her from a mortal wound."  
_

* * *

_Filius was rustled like a knapsack onto Tanaka's back by Yuri without so much as a-by-your-leave, and then he was carefully covered with a silk robe that an armor clad Yukiro assured him was thoroughly fireproofed. The portrait of Albus was also carefully charmed by the four wizards to prevent fire damage. That done, Tanaka tethered himself to the soot covered Mohammed, before he gently embraced the Indian mage._

_"Whenever you're ready, Mohammed-chan," the Japanese mage calmly assured him._

"_They'll know that I lost the school," was the weary Mohammed's response. His dark eyes were dead, his soul overwhelmed completely by the horror he had experienced, and Filius mourned for the promising young man he had once known. "My parents saved the school only to have it fall while I oversaw it. I __**swore**__ an oath…"_

_Masood couldn't continue and Tanaka shook his head in silent protest. _

"_You swore an oath to defend the India school until death. Must I remind you, Mohammed, you're not dead yet, and right now, we need to get Filius back to the correct time so he can prevent the fall of Hogwarts? If Hogwarts doesn't fall, they won't go after India. Now __**jump**__, Masood!" Yuri roared sounding like the bear he was in spirit. "__**Jump**__ like you've never __**jumped**__ before! It all depends on you! Make that red eyed devil rue the day he stepped foot in Mumbai!"_

_Disapparation was pretty much an instantaneous process. Transcontinental jumps took a little longer due to distance covered, but this was the longest jump he experienced. The trio finally landed, Tanaka overbalancing as he struggled to keep an exhausted Masood from collapsing and the harnessed Filius free from harm. Filius had no shame in admitting that his eyes were tightly closed. Sometimes, it was better to Jump with both eyes tightly closed, and now had been such a time. _

"_All of this has happened before and it will all happen again... again… again…"_

_Filius instinctively opened his eyes when he heard Trilochan's solemn voice. But he quickly closed them again when he realized that they had landed into a burning pyre. He couldn't prevent himself from screaming, and he was horrified that his fear had gotten the best of him and his hard earned self-control. Bloody hell, he was having an attack of the screaming habdabs!_

_Mohammed was in flames, Tanaka's scorched skin was charred and Filius couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe…the hot air was searing his airway… he couldn't breathe. He was on fire...he was on fire...  
_

Tanaka slapped Filius carefully on both sides of his face with his gloved hand, and then not-so-gently shook him. Then in Severus' voice, Tanaka intently commanded him, "Wake up, Filius! You're having a nightmare."

"Come on, Filius, wake up," Minerva insisted.

"Damn it, I only signed a year's contract for a visiting teacher's position. All this has happened before," Filius mumbled. "And it will happen again and again and again. I don't remember signing a soul contract, you cursed Jain. I did read the fine print after all and there was nothing about reincarnation and accumulated karma. I demand to speak to a solicitor and then an Exorcist."

"He's talking nonsense," Severus-Tanaka stated.

"I'm still kicking your arse around the Quidditch pitch, Severus Snape. First thing I do, right after I wake… but can someone answer me… why… why… must it always end in fire?" Filius darkly muttered before he fell back asleep.

* * *

Minerva was gently rubbing circles on Filius' back in a noble attempt to comfort him, and since Severus wasn't touchy feely like Minerva, he decided it would be best for everyone involved if Nobby no Mate got out of bed. Besides, Filius had plainly made his aversion for Severus' touch known so Severus wouldn't rub the mage's back. Most importantly, his bed was entirely too small for three people, even if one was on the small size. His quick exit wasn't because Minerva that damnable vixen was occupying his bed.

Not at all, as that would be…cowardly. Minerva McGonagall would certainly rip the piss out of him if she believed he was leaving his bed because of _**her**_.

"Where are you going?" Minerva softly questioned.

"Have to give my report to the Head Master," was his terse reply.

"He's already warned the others. He would have waited for you to return but Albus needed to contact them. Filius and I agreed to wait for you."

_Bloody Dumbledore, why the hell did he need to risk life and limb if Albus already knew his report?_

"Well, I'm back in one piece, safe and sound. You can leave now," Severus magnanimously volunteered.

The Warrior Goddess bequeathed him a withering glance and for good measure, he gave her a hairy eyeball back. He was no longer a student, to be completely cowed by an Instructor's less than chuffed glance.

"Or you can stay with Filius. Either way, I need to speak with the Head Master," he retorted.

He then left his quarters and made his way to the Head Master's quarters. When the Slytherin was greeted by the unmoving gargoyle that guarded Albus' realm, Severus sternly glared at the stone creature.

"It's too ruddy early for me to remember what the Head Master's sugar craving currently is. Open up or I'll blast you in a billion small pieces," he snapped.

The disgruntled gargoyle, unhappy that the traditional courtesies had not been made but quite fearful of Severus' threat, quickly acquiesced by allowing him access to the moving staircase. While he was unable to intimidate Minerva McGonagall even one iota, at least the fear of Severus Snape was enough to cause stone statues to flee. It was a small victory, but still a triumph that he'd later treasure.

The Head Master cheerily greeted him as he entered, and Severus saw that breakfast for two was being served by a House Elf.

"Tea, Severus?" Albus politely offered, which meant that the two would be having a discussion over breakfast.

"Why that would be wonderful, thank you," Severus responded, as one needed to be polite with the Head Master. Else he'd ensure that you paid forever and then some for your boorish behavior. Albus' demand for proper decorum was really rather ironic when one considered that the vast majority of the Head Master's clothing could be considered horrific crimes against humanity.

* * *

"He desired information on the foreign mages as he believed the party to be nothing more than a thinly veiled recruitment drive."

Severus explained in further detail about his summoning, and then the Head Master's keen mind demanded additional clarification on various concerns. How that particular question was phrased, what was Severus' opinion on this or that matter and then Albus explained to him how the various foreign mages had responded when they had been made aware of the Dark Lord's interest. Most schools had doubled their protection, but Londe had decided that the Dark Lord was unlikely to expend much interest in chasing down zebra riding witch doctors. Their discussion completed, the two men finished their breakfast in companionable silence.

He was content, warm and full, and naturally Severus' good mood was doomed to a quick, painful Death by Dumbledore.

"I'm sure you're curious how I knew to contact those particular mages," Albus conversationally stated.

That statement was a gentle prompt that would lead to a dangerous conversation that Severus quite wished not to have. Therefore, the Slytherin admitted nothing and instead, he listened to the various whirling noises of Albus' magical instruments and the tick tock of the great clock.

Albus wasn't about to say anything until Severus questioned him further, so they rapidly came to a stalemate of silence. Each man determined to outlast the other, Severus finally admitted his defeat.

"I must admit that I was not particularly curious," Severus lied.

Well, let Albus' conquest be only a partial victory.

"Minerva," Albus explained. The Head Master's blue eyes were shrewd as he expectantly peered at Severus over his half-moon spectacles, wanting to see Severus' reaction to that bit of news. "Seems she shared part of your experience. I have often found Minerva remarkably empathetic, but every now and then her empathy manages to astonish me."

He instinctively tensed as Severus heard Albus' silent warning. Albus was not so gently forewarning him that he'd be meddling in the uneasy state of affairs between Severus and Minerva. No doubt the Head Master had already heard Minerva's version, and Severus really did not look forward to explaining to the Head Master in explicit detail how his sexual techniques had caused Minerva to weep.

"Filius and Minerva have always been particularly close since her first day as an Instructor, and Filius has never felt the need to shield the true Filius from her. It's not easy, you understand, being part goblin in today's uneasy times," Albus easily stated that understatement with a straight face. "Though I believe that he always receives excellent customer service from the tellers at Gringotts."

"It's reassuring that Filius feels that he can trust her," Severus brusquely agreed. "I'm also glad that Filius is treated well at Gringotts. Truthfully, I've always found the clerks to be rather brusque."

Albus' blue eyes were amused which ensured that he'd continue to play with Severus for a while longer. Only after Albus' whimsical nature was completely satisfied would the hammer fall.

"I must confess that I was a trifle bit jealous at how easily they fell into a comfortable relationship. For the first few months that I was an Instructor here, Filius wouldn't talk to me. In fact, I believed that he quite utterly disliked me."

Snape was absolutely perplexed on what point Albus was attempting to make, and Albus nodded his head as though he had won their discussion. How could Albus fairly win their conversation when Severus had no clue what they were discussing? He hadn't conceded anything yet!

"I'd talk to him, and while he'd be exceedingly polite when we'd converse, he'd always quickly make an excuse to leave the room. Naturally, I struggled to earn his esteem as Filius was well regarded in the magical world. We did share a background in Charms, plus we both possessed a comparable wanderlust. At one time, I was rather young and foolhardy, and desired further adventure. Did I ever tell you that I was one of many who applied for the Indian Instructor post that Filius succeeded in obtaining? I was one of their first applicants, and at that time, they had no concept on how long it would take for them to truly fill the position. I did not have run the gauntlet of tests that Filius endured."

"Why are you telling me this?" Severus questioned, his patience exhausted. What was the point behind this insane conversation? Very well, let Albus win their battle of wits, but could he just get to the subject?

"I'm being hopelessly long winded, I know, but old men like me enjoy expanding on past glories to unwilling victims such as yourself. I traveled to Mumbai, met with all the various instructors and Trilochan quickly sent me back on my way, assuring me that while I was a quite suitable candidate, my destiny lay elsewhere. But let me continue with the story of my first year as an instructor. Recklessly, I strove to earn Filius' regard. He's quite the chess player and a very interesting conversationalist, but he wouldn't speak to me. I attempted to bribe him with assorted arcane Charms books, and while he was always exceedingly polite, the impression I always received was that he wished that I'd leave him alone."

_Head Master, why is it so shocking to you that rational, reasonable people fervently just wish that you would leave them alone?_

Albus' shrewd blue eyes weighed and measured him but Severus could sense Albus' mental laughter.

_Damn it, did you hear that thought?_

"Finally, Galatea Merrythought intervened as my noble and rather sincere attempts at becoming better acquainted with Filius were in fact, greatly distressing him and in danger of leading him to a case of complete emotional prostration. Do you know why Filius was not comfortable in my presence?"

Again, the pause in conversation, and Severus regretfully answered, "No."

"Take a moment, and ponder the issue, Severus. I'm sure you'll understand."

The Head Master smiled at him and Severus debated the propriety of claiming a sudden, unexpected illness due to breakfast. Anything to get him out of his inane conversation! No, Albus would know he was shamming. Plus the bastard would follow him down to the Infirmary to continue this conversation.

Contemplating the thorny issue of Filius Flitwick, Severus made an effort to determine why Filius and Albus hadn't gotten along like a house on fire when they had first met as Hogwarts Instructors. They both hated snakes and disliked Slytherins on principle… Wait… house on _**fire**_… _**fire**_… Albus' clothing taste, while truly horrendous and responsible for blinding several innocent bystanders, had never spontaneously combusted… Combusted… burning…

_**Phoenix**_?

"Fawkes?" Severus questioned. It couldn't be… but it made an eerie sort of sense.

For his burst of insight, he was reward with an approving nod from Albus.

"Fawkes."

"_**Fawkes**_?" Severus repeated in disbelief. "They get along so well now."

"Fawkes was the issue. We were freshly bonded, and Fawkes, being naturally insecure in a new and confusing situation, insisted on keeping me in his sight at all times. In fact, he habitually rode my shoulder during my first few months here. When Fawkes wasn't with me, he was oftentimes in the music room, enjoying the chance to listen to the students practice. Naturally, I was perplexed, as why would the sight of a Phoenix so upset Filius?"

Another long pause where Albus expected Severus to provide the answer.

"The Masoods," Severus announced, which earned another approving head nod from the Head Master.

"Yes, because Phoenixes are rather rare creatures and are infrequently bonded, so he hadn't experienced the hardship of having to interact with one since Mumbai. And now, he was forced to deal with one on a frequent basis, and on those rare times when he believed himself completely safe from a Phoenixy appearance, Fawkes would insist on supervising Filius music lessons with his students. As you are aware, Filius' severe case of Post Traumatic Stress does include flashbacks when faced with reminders of Mumbai. It doesn't mean that he can't eat Chicken Tikka Masala when it's served here, but it takes all of his considerable courage to teach first year, Incendio. As you are well aware, traditionally, Filius does not attend the lighting of the yule log, the festivities of Bonfire Night nor does he have any interest in the traditional fire purification rituals of teine eigin, the Beltane Fires. His reticence to interact in such matters is long accepted and never commented upon."

Albus softly laughed before he continued speaking. "I do understand that he does partake in the time-honored fertility rites. But have you ever noticed that his Christmas decorations are always fairy lights? Not candles. For a mage of his skill, he could easily ensure that decorating with candles is completely safe."

Severus pondered that issue, and then he asked the question that had been haunting him since that damnable party. "Would it have not been much easier for him to just tell you that Fawkes was bothering him? Why the secrecy? Why did he not trust you with the truth?"

Well, perhaps it wasn't the exact question he wanted to ask, but the gist was the same. Why hadn't Filius just informed Severus that he was afraid of snakes when Severus had first showed him Li? He wouldn't have subjected Filius to the green snake then, but no, Filius had pretended to admire Li.

They were supposedly such good friends, yet Filius had lied to him!

"It would have been easier for me, Severus, but that particular confession would not be painless for Filius. He doesn't admit his fears easily, and you know he rarely talks about Mumbai to anyone. To someone like me, freshly arrived in these august halls, possessing no true comprehension of what Filius had endured, would I not find it insulting that my familiar induced panic in him? Would I not believe him cheeky that he dislikes the totem animal of my house? Would I not secretly find it quite amusing that he cancels his classes during the worst of lighting storms? I'd have no idea that his cancellation was due to his deep seated fear of unintentionally augmenting the storm. He's inadvertently fed a storm but fortunately Merrythought was nearby to prevent the widespread destruction of Hogwarts. She was a remarkable witch, Severus."

What could he say to that? Nothing, nothing at all, as damnable Albus was making perfect sense.

"Naturally, I was horrified that I was repeating ripping open his spiritual wounds. It was completely unintentional, but the emotional damage still had been done and compounded. I explained the delicate situation regarding Filius to Fawkes, and you know Phoenixes are quite sensitive about such matters. He was off-color for weeks, and in fact he was no longer scarlet, but instead he was a distressing shade of _**coral**_."

The Head Master was then silent, which meant that Severus needed to prompt him to continue.

"What happened? Fawkes is no longer coral."

He received a wide smile for answering appropriately.

"One day in late May, Filius approached me. He expressed concern about my familiar, having quickly perceived that the Phoenixy bane of his existence was no longer omnipresent and all-pervading. His sharp eyes had noticed Fawkes flying one day, observed that he was truly off color, and he surmised Fawkes to be rather ill. Our current Instructor in Care of Magical Creatures had been unable to offer appropriate suggestions, and so Filius had taken upon himself to contact a friend. He described his friend as an expert in Phoenixes, and he had requested his input on what might improve Fawkes' precarious health. I was instructed to bring Fawkes to his quarters post-haste so I did so. I must confess that I was quite concerned about Fawkes, as he was _**exceedingly**_ coral."

Albus' voice was slightly rough, so he deliberately took a long sip of tea before he continued.

"That was the first day I met Mohammed. Remarkable man, as he flew in from India because Filius had requested his aid. After a very thorough examination, he diagnosed Fawkes as having a very bad case of the melancholies. Naturally, he demanded an explanation from me, as Masood believed that our bonding had dimmed Fawkes' bright nature."

"So, you explained that a sensitive Fawkes was upset that he had distressed Filius, so the four of you had a big scriking jag and everything was made right as rain after a group hug," Severus dryly stated.

"I wouldn't phrase it like that, Severus, but yes, after all had been revealed, Filius and I managed to work out a tentative truce. It wasn't until after I had defeated Gellert Grindelwald that our friendship developed and thrived. We were kindred spirits after all, because we implicitly understood that old adage; doing the right thing oftentimes has a tremendous personal cost."

Silence reigned until Albus spoke once more.

"Know this, Severus, when you joined us as a Staff Member, he applied to be your mentor. Flitwick made the request before I brought you in front of the House Heads for your confirmation as an Instructor."

What? Severus remembered full well how Filius had done most of the talking at his Inquisition. The Charms Master had been… hesitant…about Severus' suitability to instruct, but when his opinion had changed after much discussion, so had Minerva's initial negative judgment.

"You two manipulated Minerva," whispered a stunned Severus. "You two planned the entire meeting and you deliberately maneuvered Minerva into agreeing to my appointment. When Filius changed his mind based on the discussion, she was forced to reconsider her opinion on the matter, or else she'd be deemed inflexible."

"She prides herself on her fair-mindedness," Albus explained. "Unfortunately when one prides oneself on possessing a particular trait, that very delight can be used against you."

Well, it was quite true, but Albus could tell Minerva that.

"Filius was exceedingly distressed yesterday regarding your disagreement. Forgive me for saying this, Severus, but I can easily understand with your background why you might doubt his sincerity. Do not let his inability to share all of his significant traumas with you taint your friendship. Filius does consider you a very close friend, and with your already heavy burden, perhaps he does not wish to increase your load. When I spoke to the Indian Watchers last night regarding our other issues, Bharadwaj Singh desired that I keep a close eye on Filius, as he feared that past traumas might have been stirred to the surface. What have you noticed?"

"He was having nightmares last night and several times, he woke up screaming," Severus regretfully admitted. "I administered Dreamless Sleep to him and it failed to prevent his nightmares."

"I'll see him immediately," Albus insisted. "Severus, I'll cancel his classes today. He's in no condition to teach as they're predicting rain today. I would prefer not to have Ravenclaw tower hit by lighting. We nearly lost that damn tower last time, and I lack Merrythought's weather sense."

"He won't like skiving off classes," Severus disagreed, and then made a suggestion. Hopefully Filius would accept the gesture as the apology it was meant to be. "I have a free period, as does several of the other instructors. We could teach his classes for him. Perhaps Ms. Umbridge would be willing to take over the first years? She could oversee a review of the course material so far to see if it is Ministry approved."

Albus laughed.

"So they're up to Accio, Incendio, Mobiliarbus, Lumos, Wingardium Leviosa…" Albus stated.

"I'm sure that Filius has to remind them constantly of Aguamenti when they're using Incendio. If he's not there when they practice, it could be… fiery."


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer # 1 – not my characters. Not making any money. Just playing with them, abusing them and then putting them back together better than before.

A/N # 1 - Thanks to Excessively Perky for the term "Hunt the Snake".

A/N # 2 – Absinthe is a distilled, highly alcoholic anise-flavored spirit derived from herbs, including the flowers and leaves of the herb "wormwood." Absinthe is typically of a natural green color (which is probably why Slytherins like it so much). It is often called "the Green Fairy" or the "Green Goddess". It supposedly induces in its victim a type of lucid drunkenness. Oscar Wilde after drinking the "Green Fairy" claimed that he had tulips on his legs. It is served using a slotted spoon, water and sugar cube to help dilute the absinthe. This has been your useless Selmak related Fanfic trivia for today.

(See, you can learn more from fanfic than just anatomically impossible pron positions.)

We left Albus reassuring a rather miserable Severus that his friendship with Filius hadn't been destroyed by Severus' earlier bad behavior.

* * *

"Severus, I hope you understand that I didn't anticipate that Filius would react like this," Albus calmly stated. "Truthfully, my only intent in throwing the party was merely to remind some people that Filius Flitwick is a mage to be respected, not denigrated and belittled because of his mixed heritage and short stature. I certainly did not wish to rip open old wounds. Filius is having nightmares, which is not good. What have you given him so far?"

Severus dutifully listed the potions that he had administered to Filius, and then Albus shook his head.

"Don't you have Dreamcatcher wards in your suite? Shouldn't your wards be preventing his nightmares from occurring?" Albus' voice was puzzled as he pondered that mystery.

"The effectiveness of the wards depends on the severity of the dreams," Severus regretfully admitted that tidbit. "Some slip through but they are usually greatly diminished by the wards."

Severus' candor was rewarded by a narrowing of Albus' eyes.

"Severus!" Albus softly protested in a concerned tone. "Why didn't you tell Filius or me that you were having breakthrough nightmares? I would have strengthened the wards, as would have Filius. Never mind, I know why you didn't mention it. You have to realize that I truly desire to help you, as does Filius…"

"Yes, because I have such a hard row to hoe," Severus dryly retorted. Yes, his lot in life was a fun filled festival of misery, but why did everyone have to remind him of that inescapable fact? Why did they feel the need to pour salt in his wounds?

"Filius and I would have strengthened your wards because we're friends, Severus, and friends desire to assist their friends."

That profound premise stopped him dead in his tracks, and Severus didn't know what to say. Lily had often done that… until that horrible day he had ruined their friendship by being an utter arse. Since then, nobody had ever done anything for him without expecting something in return.

The whores slept with him because he paid them.

Albus would protect him as long as he spied.

The Death Eaters would fawn over him because they needed his potion skills.

Everyone wanted something from Severus, and he gave and gave… because then he was able to imagine that they cared for him.

Except for Filius.

Filius was a brick… had been a brick…never wanting anything from Severus. Yet that ungrateful, greasy git, Nobby No Mate Severus, had to bugger up everything.

_I'm such a bloody arse! _

"I assure you that I will strengthen your wards before you go to bed, Severus. You deserve restful slumber just as much as everyone else does in the castle. Severus? Whatever is the matter?"

To Severus' surprise, he felt the Headmaster's hand on his shoulder. Albus gave his shoulder a quick, comforting squeeze.

"Oh, I understand. Don't worry, Severus, I'm quite sure that you and Flitwick are still good friends. If Filius can forgive a coral Phoenix for unintentionally reminding him of a truly horrific event every time he saw him, then you have nothing of which to be concerned." Albus assured him. "Do you by chance, have any Absinthe in your stores?"

_Absinthe? Albus wants to give Filius __**Absinthe**__?_

"I am a Potions Master. I do brew Absinthe on occasion," Severus would admit that he did, but he wouldn't reveal how much he brewed. He certainly wouldn't reveal his recipe as Lucius Malfoy paid dearly for the brew and the Green Fairy supplemented his Hogwarts Salary. "Are you suggesting that I get Filius drunk? You believe that adding a hangover to what currently ails Filius will improve the situation? I fear that I must disagree."

"Absinthe makes people talkative. Severus, that demon brew known as the Green Fairy makes people _**extremely**_ loquacious. It might be beneficial if Filius decides to repress his emotions. You're not the only one who keeps his problems to himself. Filius needs to give voice to what he's feeling, not bottle his emotions."

"But Absinthe, Albus?" Severus questioned.

"It will be the last resort, Severus," Albus assured him. "But I have it on very best authority that Absinthe is helpful in matters such as this. It has the medicinal property of deadening one's magical ability."

* * *

Filius Flitwick regretfully woke, not wanting to revisit the memories of the last few days. Yet the memories, of both the pleasant and painful varieties, flooded his mind, and he struggled to keep his emotions in check. His control was shaky and his weather sense was predicting thunder storms. Left unhindered, his emotional upset would only feed the storm.

He ran through the mental exercises to relax that Indira had taught him. First, Flitwick closed his mind and attempted to calm down.

_Empty your mind, Filius._

Deliberately, he pushed all the baggage out of his mind. He pushed the Pink Toad out of his mind, and rather happily so. That achy part of his soul, where his recent fight with Severus resided and festered, was gently freed and tenderly released to the winds. Damn it, he needed more patience with Severus! Perhaps, he truly should have confessed to the lad years ago that he was Ophidiophobic.

Yes, after he admitted his fear of snakes to Severus, he probably should have confessed that he was severely Pyrophobic to boot also.

He wasn't fearful of burnt snakes, which was probably a good thing. Pyroophidiophobia was rather hard to pronounce and a rather silly fear. Who'd willingly admit that he was scared of a crispy snake?

Mentally, he was gently thwacked with a fan made of peacock feathers. It seemed his spiritual guru, Indira, was rather cross with his flippant attitude.

_Empty your mind, Filius!_

He did so quickly. _  
_

_Done!_

Times like this, Filius Flitwick wished he wasn't blessed with his analytical mind. Checking off each part of a relaxation exercise truly foiled the objective. He swept his mind clean, like a hyperactive House Elf energetically and zealously sweeping the Great Hall clean. Yet, each time he believed his mind was emptier than a particularly dense first year named Cornelius who had grown up to become the Minister of Magic, he'd get distracted by a stray thought.

If he couldn't empty his mind of all thoughts, there was no way in hell he'd achieve the state of Zen where his magic wouldn't augment the weather.

It would be best for all if he canceled his classes and hunkered down in his tower.

Actually, it would be safer for everyone if he just went to ground in the deepest part of the dungeon.

The only time he had been this emotionally distraught and it had stormed, lightning had repeatedly struck the Ravenclaw Tower. Galatea Merrythought, being a veteran of many a magical skirmish, had swiftly realized the reason behind the lightning strikes, and she had handled the distressed Filius in a direct manner suitable for such a renowned warrior witch.

Got him absolutely snockered on Absinthe and then she had shagged him until Filius was senseless and shell-shocked. In fact, due to Galatea's passionate desire to keep Hogwarts standing, she had persevered until he was a physically exhausted, though blissfully serene, pale shade of himself. It had taken him nearly a week to recover from her tender mercies before he was able to so much as swish and flick a hot cuppa.

_Galatea, my dear,_ _I miss you still._ _What a loving Hufflepuff you were. _

There was the sound of the Floo activating, and then he heard Albus greet Minerva.

_Albus? What was that meddlesome Albus doing here?_

"Minerva, I've made the assessment that Filius shouldn't teach his classes today. Severus suggested that the staff can pick up his classes for today rather than just flat out canceling them. Severus has kindly volunteered to take a class, and he recommended that Dolores pick up the first year class. Minerva, can you find volunteers among the instructors to fill the rest of his schedule?" Albus asked.

_Dolores Umbridge teaching my classes! Did they want the very castle to come down around their ears? _

"Yes, I agree. He's in no condition to teach today," Minerva agreed.

That did it; Filius Flitwick would not let Albus Dumbledore run amuck with _**his**_ classes and _**his**_ students. For Severus to suggest Dolores Umbridge take over his class and for Minerva to agree to the insanity, well, it greatly disturbed Filius. Canceling his classes was one thing, but to turn his students over to the tutelage of UMBRIDGE? His displeasure gave him enough energy to sit up in Severus' bed and fiercely glare at the three younger mages.

"I can teach my classes," Filius angrily protested. "I don't want that _**bitch**_ teaching my Charms students. Do you really believe she can handle a first year Charms class? I can't believe you three agreeing to this insanity! I'm perfectly capable of teaching my classes. Why do you believe that I'm incapable of teaching today?"

There was a bright, blinding flash of light that brightened even Severus' dim quarters, promptly followed by a loud crack of thunder. The castle and the ground groaningly shuddered in response. Albus, Minerva and Severus all were quite careful not to look at Filius, and instead, they all seemed to be staring at the tattered quilt on Severus' chair.

"Severus? Would you mind checking the Quidditch Pitch and the Quidditch Stadium?" Albus quickly requested.

"We fire proofed it in preparation for Masood," Minerva inserted. She was attempting to be calm, but the lighting strike had rattled her. "It should be fine."

"I saw everything; did you forget the Howler so soon?" Albus dryly quipped. "Do I need to send you another one reminding you that you're on probation due to your predilection for risky, nighttime flying? Severus? The Quidditch Stadium? Can you please confirm that Hogwarts, in fact, still possesses one?"

"I can't believe I'm being removed from my own quarters," Severus tiredly protested. "I don't remember inviting any of you to my quarters for High Tea."

Severus stormed out of his quarters, his black robes swinging behind him. As the door slammed behind him, there was an answering flash of light, and a nearly instantaneous crack of lighting.

"Minerva? He might require assistance," prompted Albus, his voice sounding slightly strained.

The witch quickly exited stage left.

"Perhaps I might suggest that we return to your suite in all due haste?" Albus politely requested, attempting to project an easy serenity. "I believe Galatea and Armando's wards are stronger there."

Another spontaneous explosion and the winds began to howl.

"I experienced the most interesting dreams last night, Albus. Hogwarts had been overrun by Death Eaters and Severus was Headmaster." Filius' voice was tightly controlled, but there was another lightning strike that rattled the castle.

Filius was staring at the wall, so he didn't see Albus' eyes narrow.

"There were different visions, but in all of them, he was Headmaster. In all of my dreams, the boy _**died**_, Albus. Once by snake bite, once by Bellatrix LeStrange…. And once…. I killed him, Albus. I bloody _**murdered**_ the boy, Albus. _**I DEMAND TO KNOW, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOUR PLANS FOR HIM?"**_

Another ground shaking lighting blast occurred and Albus reached over to Filius. He put his hands gently on Filius' temples, and then he looked into Filius' blue eyes.

"Forgive me," he softly whispered. "Go to sleep, Filius."

"No, you _**have**_ to tell me," Filius fiercely protested. "You gave the boy to me to watch over. I have done so willingly, but you know that I won't let you destroy him."

"I can't explain it to you now. Your distress is feeding the storm, Filius. I swear that we'll talk after the storm passes," Albus assured him. "Go to sleep, Filius. _Peto somnus iam! Vigoratus vestri animus_."

The Charms Master attempted to stay awake, but Albus' double casting of a sleep spell and a balm to Filius' soul was too powerful.

"I bloody _**murdered**_ him, Albus," whispered Filius. "I bloody cut him down like he was a stray dog in the street."

Flitwick's blue eyes were having trouble focusing, and yet he struggled to speak.

"Better take the damn dreams… from my head… I'll have nightmares with them…." Filius bitterly insisted. "That way you can see in detail… what your merry schemes have accomplished."

"Shh… Go to sleep, FIlius," Albus softly repeated. "I'll examine the memories when you're sleeping and I'll soften them, so they're not so raw."

"Why does it always end in Fire, Albus?" Filius' voice was slow as he was fighting to stay awake.

"For some, fire is purification," Albus gently reminded him. "It refines and distills."

"Fire isn't cleansing, it burns and chars. The school reeked like a crematorium; I couldn't get the stink of it from my nose," Filius muttered. "The food tasted like ashes, no matter what spices they added. No matter how much Hari mirch, Hara miri miri or Haldi was used, the food tasted like cinders. It was dust in my mouth…The water… how I craved a simple glass of cold water. You don't realize how sweet water tastes until the only water available tastes like smoke."

Albus' gentle hands began rubbing Filius' temples.

"Why must I live through it again?" Filius tearfully pleaded. "I'm too old to go through this again…I'm so old, Albus…"

"_Peto somnus iam! Vigoratus vestri animus. Peto somnus iam! Vigoratus vestri animus," _Albus softly repeated.

When the Charms Master was finally deeply asleep, Minerva and Severus barged back into the room. Both appeared windswept and slightly damp.

"The Quidditch Stadium still stands, Headmaster," Minerva assured him. There was a barely contained ferociousness radiating from the proud Minerva, much like a proud cat who has been dunked in water dares anyone to be foolish enough to mention it.

"He's asleep for now, so l will take him to his quarters," Albus stated. "The storm's fury is fading, so hopefully that was the worst of it."

"I'll carry him," Severus inserted quickly. "He's sensitive to magic being used on him, and it might be better if he's physically carried rather than Spelled."

"That's very considerate, Severus," Albus assured him.

Severus' dark eyes flickered from Albus to a smirking Minerva then back to Albus.

"Considerate? Rubbish! I'd hate for the Quidditch Stadium to be destroyed before the annual Slytherin and Gryffindor game," caustically retorted Snape, steadfastly determined to maintain his well-earned reputation for being heartless.

The Slytherin growled when he saw that Minerva was still smirking.

"Naturally, Severus is only concerned about the Quidditch Stadium," Minerva promptly agreed. "We have our usual bet running on it."

Severus, realizing that he was being not so gently mocked, ignored her and instead went to his bed. With a carefulness that was surprising from the grim Slytherin, he picked up Filius as though the Charms Instructor weighed no more than a child.

"Let's get Filius to his quarters," he suggested. "You better join me, Headmaster, else Rowena may attack me."

"Naturally, I'm coming with you. I plan on staying with Filius today. Minerva? Would you mind getting his classes covered?"

"Yes, I'll do it at breakfast," Minerva assured the Headmaster. "Speaking of which, I better get down to the Hall. No doubt the Toad is eyeing your seat and debating if she should physically fill it."

After Minerva's exit, Albus reminded Severus about the Absinthe.

"In my wardrobe," Severus informed him. "Third drawer down. Considering my supplies in my stores are so often nicked by students, staff members and people pretending to be staff members, I thought it best to keep it someplace safe."

Albus' lack of response spoke volumes.

"The bloody spoon is with the bottle and the damn cup is there also. I'm sure Filius has plenty of sugar cubes," Severus stated. "He likes his tea very sweet."

* * *

Dolores Umbridge was not amused. It was almost time for breakfast, and there was no Headmaster at the staff table. While his lack of attendance suited Dolores' plans, there was no Assistant Deputy, Potions Master or Charms Master present. No doubt the four of them were plotting something.

That frivolous party this weekend!

All that extravagance for a half-goblin! That freakish Charms Master who paraded around like he was just as good as any pure blooded, full human. Once Cornelius revealed to the entire magical world that the once great Albus Dumbledore was nothing more than a barmy old nutter, Fudge would be able to initiate wide spread changes for the good of the wizarding world. No more half breeds being allowed wands, for one. All foreign mages would be required to register at the Ministry when they visited, as Cornelius had secretly confirmed her darkest fears. Less than a dozen of the mages at Filius' party had bothered to inform the Ministry they were visiting Hogwarts.

She needed to get her hands on the master list of invitations, so she could report to Cornelius who exactly had been invited to the party. Naturally, Dolores had introduced herself as a representative of the Ministry to the various foreign mages, but she had the distinct idea that more than one mage had given her a false name. One of the turban wearing Pakis had gleefully assured her that his given name was "Bob" though the rather shaggy mage had been introduced to the crowds as Bharradwatamakaj Singh or something like that. Plus, besides the numerous invitees, there had been a great many gatecrashers, as she knew that the group of rowdy Ravenclaw Unspeakables had taken it upon themselves to attend.

Hopefully, Cornelius would remember her loyal service, and let her break Filius Flitwick's wand. Once in half, and then again… and again… Laughing behind her back about failing her, would he? Let's see how he would like making his way in the world as an underpaid Gingrott's teller.

There was another lightning flash and a thunderous explosion. The very castle shook, and Dolores flinched.

"My weather sense is fading," Rolanda informed Pomona. "I thought we would have a gentle rain today. Something stirred it up."

Dolores had just decided that she would sit in the Headmaster's seat when Minerva McGonagall stormed into the Great Hall.

"Pomona, Rolanda, Dolores, Filius is ill and unable to handle his classes today. Would you mind covering? Dolores, you can take the first year Charms as that's your free period," McGonagall commanded, not politely requested. No, the witch _**COMMANDED**_ her to take the little goblin's class.

Who did Minerva McGonagall think she is? Commanding her like she wasn't Dolores Umbridge!

"Whatever is the matter with him?" Dolores' tone was curt as she demanded an answer. "He seemed in fine form at his little gala on Saturday."

"It's the weather, isn't it?" Pomona quickly inserted, cutting off Minerva's caustic retort. "I know how he gets with storms. The barometric pressure change gives him horrific migraines. Naturally, I'll take his class."

"Yes, it's the weather," Minerva admitted.

Dolores returned back to her seat, and Minerva decided it would be permissible to sit next to Rolanda and Pomona. Just for today, as Severus wasn't there to buffer Dolores.

"Filius is in a bad way, isn't he?" Pomona softly questioned. "This storm is unnatural. I know how he gets and how he can influence the weather."

"Yes, he's upset and his emotional unease is whipping up the storm. He nearly took out the Quidditch Stadium… No!" Minerva grabbed a concerned Rolanda by her wrist and pulled her back into her seat. "Rolanda, Severus and I have already checked and the Stadium is fine! Albus is handling the situation and Filius is sleeping off the storm."

"What set him off?" Pomona questioned. "Do you know?"

"I think it's a variety of different issues," Minerva prayed that Pomona would be willing to let the matter drop as the Herbology Instructor had ways of getting Minerva to reveal all her secrets. Let the matter between Filius and Severus stay between the two men. "The Toad isn't helping matters."

* * *

Albus exited the Floor first, and fortunately he calmed down the Filius' very agitated familiar, Rowena, who appeared rather keen to use her razor sharp talons to rip Severus' eyes out of his head.

"Rowena, _**behave**_," Albus gently reprimanded the Golden Eagle. "You can sense that Filius is sleeping and everything will be resolved after a good day's rest."

The Golden Eagle appeared uncertain, but she decided to focus on her beloved master. Noiselessly, the eagle flew to Filius' bedroom, where she decided to perch on his bedpost so she could oversee everything. After Severus carefully placed the sleeping Charms Master in his bed, Filius' familiar began to softly chirp. Under Rowena's sharp eyes, Severus quickly undressed the Charms Master, removing his jacket, tie, shoes and socks. Then he tenderly tucked in Filius, ensuring that the blankets were just so, and not too tight.

"I don't have to be anywhere for the next hour, so I'll stay," whispered Severus.

His dark eyes fiercely glittered as he dared Albus to remove him from the room. Then deliberately, Severus sat down in only full sized chair in the room. It was located next to Filius' bed. Albus nodded his understanding and then the Headmaster created a comfortable chair that was located right next to Severus' chair.

The two men sat in silence for some time, watching the still Filius slumber.

"Your class is starting in ten minutes," Albus gently reminded Severus.

"I'd rather be here in case he wakes," was Severus' immediate response.

"He won't wake for several hours. I have a meeting at the Ministry at one. I believe that's your preparatory period? Filius will probably enjoy your company then," Albus assured him. "It will be alright, Severus. Your disagreement will rapidly be forgotten as though it had never happened."

_It won't be forgotten by me,_ Severus mentally retorted. _I'll remember this, and I will always step carefully around Filius. I've lost his friendship. I didn't value it enough until I lost it! _

"Severus, you need to forgive yourself for being human," Albus gently instructed. "You also need more faith in your friends."

_I don't have any friends, Headmaster._ _I have people that use me, and tolerate my presence only because of what I can do for them.  
_

Instead of responding, Albus squeezed Severus' shoulder once more. At this rate, the Headmaster's comforting shoulder squeezes would leave Severus with quite the collection of bruises.

"Go, there are eager young empty minds waiting to be stuffed full of knowledge," Albus stated.

"Empty minds is right, I almost pity Dolores having first year Charms," Severus snarked. "Almost, but not quite."

Albus waited until Severus had left before he gently reached for Filius. He put two fingers on Filius' temple and then he began to gently pull the traumatic memories from Filius' subconscious. With a delicate touch, he tugged at the wispy silvery streams, gently separating the strands from Filius and then he placed them in a small basin.

"Come now my dear friend, let me examine your dreams," Albus whispered. "I'll buff the rough edges out for you so your sensitive soul doesn't bleed to death from the pain. Severus as Headmaster? Old friend, your dreams may well be portents of what will happened after I die. If Severus is promoted to Headmaster, he'll be able to keep the students and the instructors safe."

* * *

The high spirited First Years' communal good mood collectively crashed and burned once the unhappy students realized that easygoing, tolerant Professor Flitwick had been replaced by the Pink Toad.

"Good morning, children," she chirped.

How she loathed the little monsters, especially their vacant little faces.

"Good Morning, Professor Umbridge," the class singsonged. They had previously experienced her displeasure when they failed to answer her greeting and so they knew now how to respond.

"Professor Flitwick is not feeling very chipper today, so I am covering his class," Dolores explained as she walked down the aisle.

A small voice, from the front of the classroom, not so quietly whispered a fervent prayer to the various sympathetic Gods and Goddesses requesting Filius Flitwick's immediate improved health. Dolores turned and pounced on the wit even as the other students offered a chorus of enthusiastic amens.

"Detention, Gareth!" She growled. "Now, we will be having a review session. Anyone care to demonstrate 'Wingardium Leviosa'?"

No one was foolish enough to raise their hands to volunteer. While they had reviewed numerous spells with Professor Flitwick, they hadn't so much as raised their wands yet. Filius believed in his students possessing a proper understanding of the basics before he let his students flick and swish.

"Surely, Professor Flitwick has taught you that spell," she exclaimed in mock surprise. "Is no one capable of casting such a minor spell?"

"We don't have any feathers," explained one student.

"Hands, Ms. Wexler. In my classroom, one raises their hands to be called upon. Ms. Wexler?" Dolores prompted after Ms. Wexler refused to raise her hand.

"We don't have any feathers," the hapless Ms. Wexler explained. Her older brother had explained to her that spell casting would commence once Flitwick brought in feathers, and so each day, she prayed that it would be "Feather Day".

Looking back on this moment with the wisdom hard earned by traumatic experience, Dolores Umbridge could safely say this was the exact moment that she lost control of the classroom.

"Use your ink jar," she retorted. "You did bring ink for the class, didn't you?"

* * *

Severus had just dismissed his first class when Minerva McGongall swept into his room.

"Professor Snape," she announced in ringing tones. "I need to speak to you in private. It's regarding a matter of academics."

Accepting the bitter fact that he had no chance to avoid the meeting especially when Minerva spoke in that manner, he went into his office, Minerva hot on his heels. He had barely shut the door to his office when Minerva pounced on him like a ravenous lion on a fat gazelle, pinning him against the door. Her mouth was on his, and she was rather wholeheartedly kissing him.

Naturally, Severus didn't respond to her kiss as he has some pride left, but he also didn't push her off of him until he managed to collect his wits.

"Madam, control yourself!" he weakly protested, as he manfully struggled with the head of Gryffindor, who apparently had Transfigured herself into a rather randy eight handed octopus. As it was, the only thing that prevented him from giving her a good shock from his wand was the fact that she had completely entwined herself around him.

He was still vainly protesting when Minerva decided to kiss him once more. Damning himself for a fool, knowing that he was doomed to more heartbreak, he fully surrendered to her kiss.

When they finally broke apart, Minerva put her fingers over his mouth.

"I'm exceptionally sorry about Saturday night. I was a silly old bint, and I didn't mean to cry like a deflowered virgin forced to do the 'Walk of Shame'," she explained. "Please forgive me."

"There's nothing for me to forgive," Severus softly protested. "My sexual techniques failed to satisfy you. I'm quite sorry, Minerva. I am ashamed that I wasn't adequate for you."

There. He had apologized for his ham fisted technique, and now, she could leave so Severus could lick his reopened wounds.

His sincere comment stopped Minerva cold, and her green eyes grew rather frosty.

"Is that why you thought I cried? Because of your…. _**technique**_?" Her expressive voice ridiculed that thought. "Your sexual technique brought me to tears?"

"Well, it might have been the unhappy realization that you had just drunkenly shagged the Greasy Git of the Dungeon that brought you to tears," he dryly retorted. "Whatever the reason for your tears, I'm at fault."

That comment earned another passionate kiss from Minerva, and he realized that her eight wandering hands were unbuttoning his frock coat, untying his cravat from his neck and pulling his white dress shirt out of his pants.

"Madam! Your hands," he weakly protested. Merlin's scrote, he sounded as though he had just run up eight flights of steps.

"You didn't accept my sincerest apology. Now, it's time for Plan B," Minerva tersely explained before she kissed him once more.

"Plan B?" Severus questioned, wondering if he would actually survive Minerva's dreaded Plan B. "Dare I ask what it is?"

"I'm planning on playing Hunt the Snake until you truly accept my heartfelt apology," insisted the witch.

_Hunt the Snake? Hunt the Snake? What the bloody hell are you talking about, witch?_

"Need I jog your memory that I have to teach Filius' next class?" Severus reminded her.

It was the wrong thing to say, as Minerva smiled. His blood ran hot at the truly evil grin on her face.

"Actually, it's been canceled. All of Filius' classes have been canceled for today. Peeves drifted into the First Year Charms class, saw that they were using _Wingardium Leviosa _on ink jars_…"_

"Ink jars?" Severus repeated. He wondered if perhaps he had drunk the Absinthe instead of giving the bottle to the Headmaster. The Green Goddess could explain everything… and then some.

"Ink jars, so Peeves started juggling ink jars. It's a frightful mess in Filius' classroom right now. The House Elves hope to get it presentable by tomorrow."

Then Minerva kissed him once more, and Severus Snape's last coherent thought for some time was that he better let her win. Maybe, he'd actually enjoy playing Hunt the Snake with her.


	30. Chapter 30

Sel would like to sincerely thank MyMadness for her comment on Sel's Version of Minerva. Sel was quite worried that her Minerva was really, truly OOC in the last chapter when she trapped Severus in his office. Fortunately, MyMadness put everything in perspective for Sel.

**_"Sel's Minerva goes to 11!"_** MyMadness.

Also thanks to MyMadness for the term sexpology and her help with the Minerva/Severus scene. Severus and his snake were being rather SHY with an acute case of performance anxiety.

A/N # 1 – Numerous Hunt the Snake allusions are made in this chapter, so if you're a prude, RUN AWAY! Minerva goes to 11, afterall. It's just too bad that JKR kept her on two.

* * *

They had frenetically coupled in his office like a two sex-starved hormonal teenagers. Now, utterly and deliciously spent, basking in the exhausted, blissful afterglow, the only reason Severus was strong enough to sit upright was because he had the foresight earlier to brace his back against the wall. Minerva was perched in his lap, her hands tightly clasping his, and deliberately, she buzzed his face with light kisses. Her long, glorious hair had come undone, and Severus pondered if the legendary Lady Godiva had looked half as lovely as Min.

After a long contemplation on that delightful subject, he finally decided that it was highly doubtful. Minerva was a goddess, and Lady Godiva? Merely a trollop with an exhibitionist fetish.

"Ohmygoodness," Minerva breathed as she languorously stretched. "I have to confess that I haven't so energetically hunted the snake like _**that**_ in far too long. Wherever is my lovely, lithesome serpentine friend? I'd like to see if I could Charm him once more."

"He's in hiding," he informed her. It was the truth, as even though he was a young man, the two of them _**had**_ wildly thrashed like a pair of oversexed centaurs. Severus would need a chance to recuperate and recover his form.

"Naughty, naughty boy, hiding your lovely snake from me. I wish it would come back and play," Minerva informed him. "I'm not sure if your lovely snake was pleased with me. I could try harder to make him happy. Was your snake satisfied with me? He really didn't say a great deal when I was Charming him."

"He was absolutely delighted," Severus assured her. "I believe that he was just too tongue-tied to speak in your presence."

"Are you sure? I thought he might have said _something_, but I don't speak Parseltongue," Minerva reminded him in a soft coo. "Though he responded so nicely. It's amazing what a little bit of pressure in the right spot will do to help turn the serpent into a rod."

"I believe that Aaron cast down his rod at the Pharaoh and it turned into a serpent," he reminded her. "Not the other way around."

There was a distinctively evil twinkle in Minerva's eyes, and he was absolutely spellbound by this side of an apparently shameless Minerva. Merlin's Scrote, he had never been the slightest bit aroused when the whores of Maid Marian's Merry Maids talked dirty to him, but Minerva McGonagall was positively… licentious… in her concern about his snake. He never thought that euphemisms could be so damn erotic.

"You have to be careful when you hunt a snake," she informed him. "You have to make sure that your hands are warm and gentle…"

Then she leaned closer to him, and in very subtle euphemisms, suitably restrained words for a spinster school teacher, Minerva told him exactly how she'd handle his snake if its head ever popped out of hiding. He shut her up in mid-recitation by snogging. Bloody hell, he was barely forty, so he really didn't need _**that**_ much time to catch his second… no… eighth wind, and his snake was rather eager to be hunted once more.

* * *

Hesitantly, Severus tucked one magnificent though rather rebellious lock that had fallen into her eyes, behind her ear. To his joyful surprise, Minerva leaned into his touch with a soft, contented purr. He needed to remember that kittens like to be scratched behind their ears, much like snakes enjoyed being gently stroked.

"Sometimes, being audacious and bold is quite useful. I hope you've accepted my sincerest sexpology for upsetting you," Minerva teased him. Her tone was light and she carefully kissed him on his lips to show that she meant no harm. "I'm sorry about Saturday night. I was… overwhelmed…by my emotions. It has been far too long since I was touched like that."

While Severus would admit that he was Clueless Charlie and Knobby No Mate, he knew enough about the feminine mystique _**not**_ to make a sardonic quip about how unlikely that comment truly was what with her collection of bedpost notches. In all the years that he had been an instructor, he knew of far too many affairs that Minerva had including one with the werewolf.

The WEREWOLF that had ATTEMPTED to kill him TWICE. Not that anyone had cared either times, he might add.

Severus' mental Minerva gave him a wicked leer as she deliberately marked her bedpost with her sharp cat claws to mark Remus Lupin's visit.

_Slash!_

Albus Dumbledore and those Merlin awful robes he insisted on wearing. He could just imagine the older mage daftly insisting on color coordinated pants to match his robes. How did Minerva escape from being permanently blinded when the Headmaster 'dropped trow'?

Minerva wiggled her claws at Severus and then notched her bedpost once more.

_Slash!_

Two of the doomed Defense Against the Dark Arts instructors… Whatever had their names been? He had long since forgotten most of their names to be honest, and in fact, called them Victim # 1, Victim # 2, Victim # 3….

_Slash! _

_Slash!_

Kettleburn…. _Slash!_

Before and after his loss of limb… _Slash! _

Oh, how could he possibly forget the saintly though rather lecherous Filius Flitwick. _Slash! Slash! Slash!_

"It's now time for me to be brave," Minerva briskly announced, distracting Severus from further mentally listing _The Who's Who of Minerva McGonagall's Nocturnal Companions_. "I want you to listen to me and not interrupt, please. Can you promise me that you'll let me speak?"

Silently, he nodded once. When Minerva spoke in that particular tone, from personal experience, he knew that it was highly improbable that he'd get a word in edgewise. It was best to pretend that it was his idea to be quiet.

"Now, here's the really tough promise. If I start sobbing like I'm a crazy bint, will you just hold me, and _**not**_ run away? Please?" Minerva softly implored the Slytherin.

It seemed like a reasonable request, but what if she was crying because of him? Shouldn't he leave her in peace so she could compose herself?

His delay in answering disappointed Minerva, and then she gave him a twisted smile.

"If you dare even think of leaving me while I'm sobbing, I will grab you and make you stay. There's something of yours that would make a great handle," Minerva tartly informed him.

"My cravat?" He dryly quipped.

Damn it, she had wanted him to keep silent, yet he had to jest.

"I wasn't thinking of your neckband, but I believe it will work just as well. Severus, I can assure you that I'm not crying because of you," she promised. "Well, in a way, that's not the complete truth. You're part of it, I'm afraid."

He instinctively pulled away from her then; the years of being mocked having scarred his soul deeply, and Minerva shook her head.

"Please, just listen to me, Severus. It's difficult for me to talk about this, and I don't want to worry about the necessity of chasing you down the corridors wearing nothing but my hair!"

"I'll listen," he promised. "But only because I do not desire to share this glorious sight with any overly hormonal, barely pubescent wizards and witches. They lack both the native wit and the necessary experience to appreciate such a magnificent display of pure womanhood."

He was serious, completely and utterly so, yet Minerva bestowed a kiss upon him that caused his blood to burn.

"Flatterer," she teased. "I have to remember to be wary about the utterances of an eloquent, silver-tongued Slytherin. Woe is me, a poor Gryffindor, so easily seduced and charmed by a smooth-talking Slytherin and his delightful snake."

"I'm extremely serious, Minerva," the Slytherin insisted.

Minerva bequeathed him a wicked smile, and he decided it was best just to keep silent.

"Very well, once upon a time, a long, long, long time ago, I was engaged to a wonderful, loving man. His name was Bryce Kinnear, and…" She paused to take a long, slow breath, as though attempting to control her emotions. "We were very much in love, and we had planned our wedding, how many children we'd have, what we'd name them… and then… one day…"

Her composure was slipping, and her lips were quivering.

"Alastor found bits and pieces of him in an alley. I got Alastor in his cups one night, and he described the entire scene to me in horrific, gory detail, including his belief that He Who Must Not Be Named had personally killed Bryce. On that faithful night, Bryce, and all my dreams, were merrily torn asunder. I could never understand why He Who Must Not Be Named took a special, vindictive interest in Bryce. He was a… _**Healer**_, Severus. Bryce wasn't an Auror, wasn't a politician, he was just a Healer. It was just… _**random**_…"

She wept then, and hesitantly, he put his arms around the weeping Gryffindor as after all, she had requested that he hold her if she wept. Minerva leaned into his embrace, and she let herself cry until her tear ducts were empty and he was quite soggy.

Severus knew exactly why Bryce Kinnear had been murdered, and why the Dark Lord had decided to personally execute Minerva's fiancé. But Severus could never tell Minerva the true reason behind Bryce's death. It was best if she thought it an arbitrary act.

"After Bryce died, I barricaded my heart," she whispered. For a marvel, her voice was shaky when she spoke. "I've had plenty of affairs, and… my lovers… we've all been so thoroughly damaged that we come together because we're lonely… but we know that we won't get too close because we won't dare to risk it. But you're different, Severus, you reminded me so strongly of Bryce."

Bloody hell, his sexual technique reminded Minerva of her dead fiancé? How was he supposed to react to that tidbit? Should he be _**proud**_? Should he be _**shamed**_ that his best efforts reminded her so forcibly, so painfully of a dead man's touch? Whatever emotion a normal man should be feeling Severus didn't know. Severus only knew that he was completely heartbroken.

Again, he had fallen to her considerable physical charms, allowed himself to foolishly hope for more than he could ever deserve, and _his touch reminded her of a dead man_.

"My touch reminds you of a dead man," he painfully whispered.

He recoiled from her, and Minerva belatedly realized she had upset him.

"No, no, no, not like that. Severus, please, do not be upset with me."

"Why would I be upset? You are the one that's rightfully distressed. When you have sex with me, it's like having sex with a dead man," Severus calmly stated. His voice was emotionless, and he couldn't help but add, "Perhaps next time for my partner's sake, I should attempt to be a little livelier, so it's not like rigor mortis has set in."

His sarcasm was directed toward himself, because it was far easier for him to accept self-flagellation.

Bloody, bloody hell, Severus had never dreamed of actually being Minerva's lover, and he never had thought that if that lucky day had ever occurred, that there would a third person occupying Min's bed. How the bloody hell was he supposed to compete with a dead man? The truth was far worse that that, as Severus knew he could never hope to win in a competition with Minerva's dead fiancé. Was sharing Minerva with a dead man even bloody possible? Severus knew that he didn't deserve the largest part of Minerva, but perhaps, Bryce might be willing to allow him the smallest sliver of Minerva?

"Severus, please shut up, or I'll…. I'll … I'll _hex_ you into letting me have my say," Minerva tearfully insisted. "I won't let you jump out a window this time; you'll have to put on your big boy pants…"

"Put on my big boy pants?" Severus snarked. "I thought you were quite delighted with the size of my snake. My snake is rather displeased with your disparagement of its length and girth."

"Put on your bloody big boy pants, be an adult and bloody well listen to me," Minerva protested. She put her hands on her head, looking as though she wanted to scream. "Don't you dare try to distract me with thoughts of your lovely snake! I'm not letting you escape once more from this conversation, Severus. There's something about you that reminded me of Bryce. Maybe it's the way you stand, your height or your coloring. I've always thought nothing of your similarities before, but damn it, you touched me like he did. You loved me like I was an extraordinary, exceptional woman…"

"But you _**are**_," Severus interrupted. He was confused, how could she not see it?

"And it just emotionally overwhelmed me to experience that level of intimacy after having blissfully convinced myself for so long that I was happy and secure behind my emotional walls," Minerva admitted that slowly, and then she looked deeply into his dark eyes. "I never realized until Saturday night that I believed that I was intrinsically unworthy of a relationship that was more profound than just a mattress mambo."

Severus had long realized that the best way not to appear foolish was to keep one's mouth firmly shut when you didn't understand the topic that was being discussed. It was better to be thought wise, then open one's mouth and remove all doubt. Therefore, he kept his mouth closed and attempted to look… sympathetic, though he secretly feared that he appeared dyspeptic.

Minerva made no sense to him.

He highly doubted that Filius Flitwick or Albus Dumbledore had ever treated Minerva like a common light skirt as Severus knew both mages held Minerva in high esteem. Why oh why couldn't they return to talking about his snake?

"I'm so glad you understand," his lover whispered. "I was truly gutted when you left my quarters because I knew I had upset you."

Her confession admitted, Minerva tightly embraced him and kissed him until he was dizzy and his blood burned with holy fire.

"Thank you," she said. "For being unwilling to accept my self-imposed limitations and for forcing me to realize that I deserve more than a frantic tumble."

On rare occasions, Severus had found that if one kept their mouth firmly shut, sometimes you'd actually be given credit for being far wiser than one truly was.

"You are worthy of far more than I could ever dare dream to give you," Severus tenderly assured the witch. It was the Merlin honest truth, after all.

Minerva gently chided him for his lack of faith, "Don't you be so sure of that, Severus."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore knew that his time left on Earth was rather limited.

For one thing, the white haired Albus was one hundred and twenty years old, a rather respectable age for a fully human wizard, but he had long accepted that his death would be the result of his former student, Tom Riddle, rather than natural causes. The success of his lifetime's worth of schemes and manipulations were heavily dependant on two young boys, Harry Potter and Severus Snape.

While Harry was the glorious young hero, Albus' Dark Knight, Severus, deserved just as much praise as Harry. Without Snape's skills as a quadruple agent, the war would have long since been over, with Voldemort the victor.

Albus carefully examined Filius' painful memories, deliberately smoothing the rough edges so that they wouldn't cause Filius' soul to bleed to death. He kept focusing on one particular memory in particular, hoping to be blessed with a desperately needed flash of insight.

"_Can you just show me what you need to show me? As much as I'm enjoying your Punch and Judy routine, I fear what I will see with you two. I've noticed that the visions have gotten progressively darker," Filius argued._

"_Hold our hands, Garuda," Trilochan ordered. "Yes, you are correct. Each revelation has gotten darker, and this is the worst yet. We decided that only Utta and I were brave enough to show you this."_

"_Understand, what you are seeing is only possibilities of what may occur," Utta explained. "Reflect deeply on what you see, and you may be given wisdom to change what may happen."_

"_I can prevent Severus' death?" Filius questioned._

"_What may happened may yet happen, and yet may not," Trilochan inserted. _

The signs and portents were pointing toward Severus being appointed Headmaster after Albus' death. Voldemort would believe that he controlled the school through Severus, but Severus would be in a position where he could protect the students and the staff.

Yet, Severus was fated to die. His death had been apparently preordained, but not the method of it_. _

_Bellatrix, a snake, Filius Flitwick? _

"But why does he have to _**die**_?" Albus protested to the uncaring universe. "I've long accepted the fact that my death is necessary, but why _**Severus**_? Can he not have _**some**_ happiness? He refuses to let me acknowledge the very best of him, why must he die shunned and alone?"

The heartless universe answered Albus not.

"I have to go to India, and speak to Trilochan's ghost. If he's still haunting the school, perhaps he might be willing to See for me. How I curse that faithful day that Sybill first picked up a glass of sherry! I should have sent her to detox at St. Mungo's when I had the chance. I need someone possessing Foresight that isn't blinded by cooking sherry!"

He walked over to Filius' mirror and he gently tapped on the mirror. As Headmaster of Hogwart's, due to the long standing ties between the two schools, Albus knew exactly where the India School was located. In fact, he had a standing invitation to visit. Yet, it would be the utmost rudeness for him just to pop into the India School and demand to speak with their dead Seer. Propriety demanded that he ask permission before he visited the school.

"Hello, it's Albus. Will you consent to speak to me?" Albus requested of the mirror.

"You're being awfully chatty lately, Albus-ji," dryly retorted the bearded Bharadwaj Singh from the mirror when he answered the summons.

Thank Merlin, Bharadwaj was still on Watcher Duty.

Albus got along quite well with the Sikh as they both possessed a fairly strong sense of whimsy untempered by anything faintly resembling restraint much to the annoyance of their fellow instructors. Plus, they shared the bond that only someone who experienced both the joys and the trials and tribulations that a proper beard entailed could fully understand.

"I have reason to believe that Trilochan Jain still walks the halls of the school. Is that correct?" Albus softly questioned.

The Sikh admitted that it was true. "He's here. I just saw him in a hallway, so I know that he's active at the moment. Our ghosts are sometimes quiescent, but all of them are currently roused. They're out and about around the school."

"I'd like to speak to him, if it's possible," Albus requested. "May I visit?"

"Would you mind if Mohammed met you in Kotte, Sri Lanka? We've just relayered our wards and you'll need one of our mages to get you into the school."

Albus agreed, and the meeting place and time was soon agreed upon.

"You know, Albus, I wish you had mentioned on Saturday that you had a burning desire to speak to Trilochan," the Sikh confessed. "You could have talked to him then, as he attended Filius' party. All of them insisted on attending."

"He _**attended**_ Filius' party?" Albus questioned.

"They insisted that they had earned the right to attend Filius' party and what a problem we had with them," Bharadwaj admitted with an easy laugh. "It was complete role reversal. They were the rambunctious students and we were the instructors attempting to keep them under control. The Cadre had to _**Bespell**_ them so they'd behave. At the moment, they're rather vexed with us as we severely Limited them. Ibrahim was determined to set Umbridge on fire, and he is the _**calmest**_ of the five. I never knew Noor Masood was so blood thirsty. She desired to garrote Dolores with one of her pink bows!"


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer # 1 – not my characters. Not making any money. Just playing with them, abusing them and then putting them back together better than before.

Disclaimer # 2 – this is a Minerva light chapter as well SOMEONE at HOGWARTS really needed to be instructing the students in between the partying, the drinking and the sexing.

Synopsis: Albus went looking for a Seer that wasn't potted on Cooking Sherry. He ends up in India where he's given a great deal on which to ponder. So, yes, the various Indian mages are making an appearance in this chapter. They'll be disappearing after this for a bit.

A/N # 1 - Rakshasa is a demon in human form aka Voldemort.

* * *

"As-Salāmu Alaykum. Welcome to Sri Jayawardenapura-Kotte, Albus-ji," Mohammed Masood, the Vice Deputy Headmaster of the India School intoned when he met Albus Dumbledore in Sri Lanka. Gracefully, he bowed low, and placed his right hand on his forehead.

_Peace be with you. _

"Alaykum As-Salām, Mohammed," Albus responded. _And on you, be peace._

Carefully and nowhere near as gracefully, Dumbledore duplicated Mohammed's gesture and Masood flashed a brief smile.

"You don't need to do that, but I do appreciate the thought," Masood admitted. "Shall we promise each other that we'll tell our comrades tall tales about how exceedingly polite we were to each other? That way we can dispense with social niceties and just get to the point of your visit?"

"That sounds like an excellent suggestion," Albus agreed, his blue eyes twinkling. "But you had to re-layer your wards? I hope that you haven't had any issues?"

"Nothing major and we knew that we'd have to re-layer everything once we came out of Seclusion. There's a great deal of chatter about us so our Watchers are having horrible times Listening. Then there are the adventurers desperately wanting to visit the long lost India school. They bounce off our Wards and end up neck deep in snow in the Kangchenjunga SewaLungma. Fortunately, Nepal is assisting in rescuing them as we have various mage teams bouncing them directly home before they die of exposure in the mountains, " Mohammed groaned. "Plus, I have schools wanting my mages! I didn't foresee that! Bharadwaj is in high demand, as your Daily Prophet mentioned that he's the undefeated dueling champion of the Asian continent. Jaya is probably a stronger duelist than her husband, but she has no interest in the competitions, while Bharadwaj thrives on them. He's gotten several offers of contracts that are triple what he's currently paid. If he shows me another one and gloats… "

The one eyed mage growled and shook his head. "Payroll is the absolute bane of my existence. It's so much easier with the Jains. They want just enough to cover their needs, but Bharadwaj? I'd rather teach thick headed, fumble fingered first years then haggle out Bharadwaj's contract. He's always looking to upgrade his flying carpet. He's into speed."

"I don't believe that he'll leave the school," Albus assured Masood.

"I know he won't as his lifeblood stains the bedrock of our school, but he's getting extremely lucrative offers to teach. I'm not getting that type of proposal!" wryly admitted Masood.

"What type are you getting then?" questioned a curious Albus.

_Was Mohammed actually blushing?_

Why, yes, he was, and Albus being a rather lecherous soul, immediately wanted all the juicy details.

"Four marriage proposals," Mohammed confessed. "Plus a dozen or so illicit propositions involving the spawning of children, and unfortunately, Bharadwaj intercepted a request from _The_ _Frisky Witches' Monthly_ for me. They want me to pose for their special issue, _Fires of Bealtaine_."

"Cover?" Albus quipped.

"Centerfold," Mohammed admitted with a dry laugh. "Naturally, my parents raised me properly so I won't seriously consider it but Nigel's a little out of sorts as I told him I was reflecting on it. When you're bonded to a pretty boy like Nigel, sometimes it's good for his ego to remind him that others find you're attractive. With the exchange rate, it was really _**quite**_ an obscene offer, though I fail to understand why any hot-blooded witch would desire to look upon me in all my scarred and mutilated, rather antiquated glory."

Dumbledore laughed, and the grey haired Masood flashed another quick smile.

"You're barely ninety, Mohammed, barely more than a child," chastised Albus.

"I'm glad you're laughing. Bharadwaj said you seem rather pensive when you requested to chat with Trilochan," Mohammed said.

"I'm in need of a seer who isn't drunk on cooking sherry," confessed Albus. "Things are afoot, and I am in need of counsel."

"Trilochan is waiting for you, and I shouldn't keep him waiting," Mohammed quickly agreed. He extended his hand to Albus. "Please grasp my arm, and I'll take you in. Once the Wards Recognize you, it won't be necessary for you to have a Guide to visit. As always, you're always welcome to our school."

Albus grasped Mohammed's forearm, and then the two Disapparated into India.

* * *

The two mages landed in a large garden. It was a peaceful place, with many assorted nooks and crannies so one could meditate and reflect in solitude. It was utterly empty except for the two of them and Albus bestowed a questioning glance ontoMohammed.

"The Memorial Gardens," Mohammed quietly explained. "It's been cleared so you can talk to Trilochan in private. Feel free to walk around the grounds, reflect and contemplate. He'll meet you out here. Someone will meet you after you're done as Indira desires to have tea with you."

Albus graciously thanked Mohammed and then he decided to explore. There were various monuments and he carefully examined each one that he came across. While he couldn't read the language, he recognized various symbols. For example, this stark, bleak memorial, emblazoned with the carved hand with a wheel on the palm along with the Anja chakra, could only be for the Jain Seer.

"Non-violence and the Third Eye," whispered Albus. "Very well, I will wait here for you here."

The Headmaster stayed at the memorial for some time, anticipating that the Jain Seer would arrive here for their conversation until at last, enlightenment was his. If he was a ghost, the last place Albus would desire to be would be his memorial. Therefore, he continued to explore, and he turned one corner to find himself in front of a burning funeral pyre. There were two fires, separate and unique, yet interweaving into one fire.

"The Masoods," Albus quietly stated as there was no doubt this unholy pyre was for the two married Fire Mages. "Separate, but intrinsically one."

There was a sense of déjà vu here, and he pondered for a bit, attempting to wrestle the memory into focus.

_Disapparation was pretty much an instantaneous process. Transcontinental jumps took a little longer due to distance covered, but this was the longest jump he experienced. The trio finally landed, Tanaka overbalancing as he struggled to keep an exhausted Masood from collapsing and the harnessed Filius free from harm. Filius had no shame in admitting that his eyes were tightly closed. Sometimes, it was better to Jump with both eyes tightly closed, and now had been such a time. _

"_All of this has happened before and it will all happen again... again… again…"_

_Filius instinctively opened his eyes when he heard Trilochan's solemn voice. But he quickly closed them again when he realized that they had landed into a burning pyre. He couldn't prevent himself from screaming, and he was horrified that his fear had gotten the best of him and his hard earned self-control. Bloody hell, he was having an attack of the screaming habdabs!_

_Mohammed was in flames, Tanaka's scorched skin was charred and Filius couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe…the hot air was searing his airway… he couldn't breathe. He was on fire...he was on fire..._

"Filius lands in the Masood's Memorial Pyre?" An alarmed Albus whispered his disbelief. "Why would Mohammed pick that particular dangerous location in which to Apparate? Filius has to return back to India?"

"Are you quite sure about that, Albus-ji? It's rather disrespectful for our son to deliberately land in our Memorial Pyre," Ibrahim Masood quietly stated, interrupting Albus' dark thought. "I believed that he was better trained. Perhaps, he chose to land near it but magical fatigue caused him to miss his mark?"

Albus turned his head and saw several ghosts. A tall, thin Jain, an amused-looking male Sikh, a Hindu female and the Masoods had decided to visit, and a disbelieving Albus shook his head.

"Namasté, I was only, at the most, hoping for Trilochan," admitted Albus. "You deeply honor me with your presence."

"Namasté, Albus-ji. We acknowledge the bond between our two schools, so we all decided to attend this meeting. But yes, Filius will return to India, but the time has not come to past," admitted the Jain seer. "He's not aware of that part of the prophecy, so perhaps, you better not mention it to him. Temporal ironies are frightfully convoluted messes at the best of times."

Shalini, the late Head Mistress of the India School, tartly interjected her firm opinion into the conversation, "I don't remember Filius landing in the Masood's Memorial as part of your prophecy, Trilochan. You specifically stated, 'Garuda, along with Hanuman and Shiva_,_ will return to India, seeking allies in the next great Battle against Rakshasa'. That is what I specifically remember from your proclamations about the next battle. A demon in human form, yes, but _**nothing**_ about Filius in flames."

The stern Hindu witch fiercely glared her deepest disapproval at Trilochan. It was apparent to Albus that Shalini personally blamed the Seer for that fiery part of his prophecy.

"I don't _**make**_ the future, Shalini. I just _**interpret**_ it," protested the innocent Jain.

"Filius doesn't particularly like fire," whispered the compassionate Noor Massod.

Utta Singh merely shook his head to express his displeasure.

"Very well, Albus-ji, you wish me to See, but I believe that you already possess Visions. Tell me what they are, and what your questions are. Perhaps, I will be able to See the Higher Plan," stated Trilochan.

* * *

Dumbledore spoke for some time of Filius' visions until his voice was hoarse and cracked.

The Jain Seer stared at Albus, his eyes unblinking, and then he spoke, "Ask your questions."

"Must this come to past? The school overwhelmed by Death Eaters? Voldemort in control of the Ministry? I've struggled to prevent this," admitted Albus. "Foolishly, I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."

"Yes," Trilochan simply stated. "All this has happened before, and will so again. And again. Evil rises and Good must stand united against it."

Albus nodded his head, quietly pondering this dire confirmation and then Triolochan spoke once more in a soft, commanding tone.

"You have another question. Ask it, Albus. Do not fear to offend us."

Utta piped in, "We're the Dead. We are not insulted easily, and if we are affronted, it's not like we can do anything to you in retaliation!"

"Else Dolores Umbridge would not have survived Filius' party unscathed," inserted Noor Masood.

"Thank you for not garroting Dolores, Noor, I would have a tough time explaining her death by pink ribbon to Cornelius. But very well, in each of the visions, Severus dies," Albus explained to the Seer. "Once by snake bite, once by Bellatrix LeStrange and the final time by Filius, who overcome by his guilt, commits suicide. But you, yourself stated, that what may happened, may yet happen, and yet may not."

"_Understand, what you are seeing is only possibilities of what may occur," Utta explained. "Reflect deeply on what you see, and you may be given wisdom to change what may happen."_

"_I can prevent Severus' death?" Filius questioned._

"_What may happened may yet happen, and yet may not," Trilochan inserted. "Don't be vexed, Filius. We are limited in what we can do."_

The Jain was quiet, pondering the issue for far too long for Dumbledore's comfort as he feared that the Seer's silence meant that he was deliberating whether or not to answer. Albus turned to the other teachers and stated his case.

"Severus is the brave mage who carries your wand now, Ibrahim. He has walked a dark and lonely path, and has come so far. Without him, our fight against Voldemort would not nearly be so successful. Yet, he refused to let me reveal his reasons why he fights on our side. There's so few of us that know the very best side of him! I know that you died for your school, but if there had been the chance to save one of you, Shalini, would you not have struggled to do so?"

The Indians stared at him and said not a word. Dumbledore was fearful of having deeply offended them but then Utta spoke.

"The choice was available to us. One of us could have been saved," Utta softly explained. "But our decision was made to save as many of the students as we could."

"In my eyes, he's still a student," protested Albus. "My student, who I repeatedly failed, now risks his life to prevent this horror from coming to past. I wish to know if there is a way to prevent Severus from dying. I fear that his loyalty to me will be the direct cause of his death."

The Jain was quiet for far too long and then he shook his head.

"Forgive me, I must decline in answering you, Albus-ji, for these visions of yours reek of Paradox. It is evident that I have spoken to Filius' dream eye, yet I have no memories of doing so. Therefore, our conversation has not yet come to past. My present involvement in this future matter will muddle the waters, and will have unforeseen consequences."

The look of shock on Albus' face when he heard the Jain's refusal was only matched by the astonished faces of Trilochan's fellow instructors.

"Namasté, Albus-ji," Trilochan quietly stated. The ghost of the Jain Seer nodded his head once and then disappeared.

* * *

Severus Snape had faced Albus Dumbledore unwanded, dealt with a very pissed off Dark Lord having an eppy or three his plans had gone pear-shaped, and yes, he had even shagged the fearsome Minerva McGonagall, not once but TWICE. He lived to tell the tale in all those incidents, but to face Filius Flitwick after their row was the hardest thing he had ever done. It wasn't even a proper row, as Filius hadn't yelled at him. No, it had been completely one-sided as he had sulked and whinged like a tired toddler, and Filius had washed his hands of the ungrateful, greasy git known as Severus. Not even facing Lily after he had called her such a dreadful name had been this difficult. Perhaps, because he hadn't been friends with Lily for that long and foolishly, he had believed that he could easily return to his customary, friendless state. Not so now, as Filius had been his sanity… his only friend… for far too long.

Merlin knew that Severus had no idea what his current relationship with Minerva was. He didn't believe that their energetic shagging was a strong enough basis for a true friendship between a Gryffindor and Slytherin. Therefore, he couldn't lose his friendship with Filius.

Hesitantly, he greeted Rowena, half-heartedly wishing that the Charms Master was deeply asleep and Filius' overly protective guardian would send him on his way. To his unease, the door swung open easily even as Rowena warmly returned his salutation.

Filius wasn't asleep, no, he was absolutely snockered on Severus' Absinthe, and yet, the mage was still lucid enough to know that he was in no condition to do anything except recline his comfortable lounge.

Plus drink more Absinthe.

For such a small mage, Filius had quite the tolerance for the Green Goddess, as Severus believed that he'd be on the floor, completely anesthetized, if he had dared match Filius drink for drink.

"Sit next to me, Severus!" Filius insisted.

Hesitantly, Severus sat on the floor next to Filius' chaise lounge. He faced away from Filius, but he could feel Filius' small hand gently patting his shoulder.

"You don't need to sit on the floor, Severus," protested the kindly Filius. "You'll need to whip up a chair; I'm afraid that Albus confiscated my wands as the last time I was this drunk, I created the most remarkable spell. Albus couldn't get his damn hat to stop singing bawdy show tunes during brekkie for the longest time, and the Sorting Hat nearly went on strike to protest."

Filius giggled, and admitted, "Did you know why Albus is so enamored of his hat? It hides his bald spot. You think such a vain mage of his talent could fix that little bald spot…"

"I'm an utter arse, Filius," whispered Severus.

"Yes, you're an utterly impossible, tactless and easily upset arse, but I love you anyway," Filius admitted, before giving Severus a rather drunken hug which nearly ended with Filius arse over tit in Severus' lap when a snockered Filius overbalanced. "I consider you a very close friend."

"I thought you weren't into that," Severus dryly commented, as he righted the Charms Master.

"No, I'm not at all into that, Severus, especially when it's offered as merely a means of diffusing my anger. If you were seriously interested… well… that's a different story. Now, where was I? Oh, your worst characteristic is that you stew on everything, and let it fester. Yes, I should have told you that I have nightmares, and that I fear snakes, but there's so much more I neglected to tell you," admitted Filius.

"There's more? Besides your Ophidiophobia? That you're seen as bloody Garuda incarnate, fierce slayer of Nagas, by a zealous band of devotees?" Severus snapped.

"That's it, lad, let it all out," an exceedingly drunk Filius kindly commiserated. "Vent how you're feeling, Severus."

"I don't understand why you put up with me," painfully admitted Severus. "As I'm forced to confront more and more of who you truly are, I rightly fear that our supposed friendship is nothing more than a lie. You're my keeper, Filius, that's all you ever were."

There, he had managed to admit the truth and keep his composure.

"Our friendship is not a falsehood, lad," retorted the Charms Master. "You should also be thanking Merlin that Albus stole my wands from me, else I'd give you a proper hex for doubting me. You're prickly, Severus, and I thought it would do you, a proud member of Slytherin House, no good to know much I truly fear snakes. Did you ever wonder why I tested you with Ibrahim's wand?"

"Yes," Severus slowly confessed. He had obsessively pondered the issue ever since the party.

"Because you so strongly bloody reminded me of him," a tearful Filius sobbingly admitted. "Bloody hell, I'm in my cups and maudlin. There's so much similarity between you two, as you grow older, I see more and more of Ibrahim in you."

Was that meant a back handed compliment, Severus wondered.

"His family abandoned him as they believed that he was ill-omened. Ibrahim found his niche as he took to magic like a duck to water. Masood wasn't just smart, but bloody brilliant like you are, in fact. By the time he was fourteen, he had been placed in advanced classes with students far older than he was. Naturally, not everyone took that well, so some of his fellow students bullied him. Like you, he never confided in any of his instructors because he didn't trust them. After all, his parents had abandoned him, so why should perfect strangers care what happened to him? When your arm was broken in that stupid prank, I knew that history was repeating itself. You could go either way…." Filius stopped, and then sighed.

"After Ibrahim accidentally blew up the greenhouses in response to being bullied, there were two sets of teachers that took an interest in him and his amazing gift. Trilochan and his group, and Nisha. Nisha, intent on her nefarious plans, would have been delighted to have a Fire Mage under her sway. Instead, Utta took the boy under his wand so to speak, and in time, Ibrahim died for the students of his school. Not just the Muslin students, but all of them, the Jains, the Sikhs, the Christians, the Zoroastrianisms…He was a remarkable mage, and I knew that you could bring honor to his wand."

Filius stopped and then roughly wiped his eyes with his hand.

"I loved Trilochan like a brother in arms, Severus, but I know that he was first interested in Ibrahim because of his supposed role in their obscene Prophecy. Nisha and Trilochan both wanted to use the boy, one for far nobler reasons, but the boy was first and foremost a pawn in their mêlée. In time, Trilochan cared for Ibrahim… for far more than his potential… but at first…Do you know what I'm saying?" Filius questioned.

"No, I do not," Severus admitted, though in truth, he believed that he knew what Filius was saying. Flitwick was warning him about _**ALBUS**_?

"The one person who always cared for Ibrahim, irregardless of his magical ability, was Noor," Filius explained. He took a long swallow of Absinthe, and then he grabbed Severus by his shoulder. "Don't play daft, Severus. Do you comprehend what I'm saying?"

"You approve of my relationship with Minerva?" A confused Severus softly questioned.

A weary Filius nodded his head once and softly agreed that was exactly what he was saying, but somehow Severus believed that he hadn't quite understood Filius after all. Yet, Filius did honestly approve of his liaison with Minerva.

"Have some Absinthe," Filius roughly ordered.

* * *

Bharadwaj Singh met Albus Dumbledore at the entranceway of the Memorial Garden. With a nod, he motioned for Albus to follow him into the cool corridors of the school.

"I hope you got the answers you wanted," Bharadwaj stated in his basso profundo.

"Some, not all. Trilochan stated my one question was a Paradox that involved him and he refused to answer," Albus admitted.

"Trilochan always did have a strong moral code. Before I was allowed to teach, I was required to _**merely**_ pass an ethics class with him, Utta, Shalini and Ibrahim. It was a nightmare as I truly feared that I would never get my teacher's baton."

Bharadhwaj grimaced with well-remembered pain.

"All this time, Hogwarts proudly believed that it was the only school that had a ghost instructor," Albus wryly commented.

"Well, using ghost instructors kept the payroll down after the Massacre," quipped Bharadwaj. "Plus no one wanted to teach here, just a few crazy souls like Yuri Alekseev. After surviving my final year with him, I'm quite convinced that he talked that Drake to death."

Albus barked a laugh and agreed. "He can be quite loquacious at times, especially if he's recently woken from his winter's nap."

The Sikh then stopped at the next intersection and looked at the various corridors. For a moment, he looked puzzled, and then he turned to his left.

"Problems?" questioned Albus.

"We're in the wrong section. Someone instructed the school to play games with the corridors, I'm afraid," admitted Bharadhwaj. "The fires are wildly sparking, so I think I know which ghost in particular is causing it. Mother Noor? Would you please appear to us if you're here?"

There was no response, and the Sikh appeared astonished as he reached another conclusion. "_Father Ibrahim_?"

The shade appeared after his summoning. The Fire Mage had his arms crossed, and there was a sense of barely restrained fire in his dark eyes.

"There was disagreement among us on Trilochan's decision not to help you," Ibrahim Masood tersely announced. "Assistance will be _**forever**_, freely given to Hogwarts in spite of that stiff-necked, entirely too ethical Jain's qualms!"

"Yes, Father Ibrahim, I do completely agree with that splendid sentiment, but perhaps, may I humbly suggest that getting Albus-ji lost in the corridors of our most beloved school might not be conducive toward that noble goal?" The normally jovial Sikh sounded perfectly respectful.

"You need patience! It requires time to assemble assistance, Bharadhwaj. I'm a ghost, in case you haven't noticed."

With a flash of fire, the ghost disappeared.

"Interesting, Ibrahim Masood is disagreeing with Trilochan, which means that most likely Masood is at odds with the others. He was always deferential to the rest for a variety of reasons," admitted the Sikh. "It would have been nice if Father Ibrahim had informed us how long we're expected to meander through these corridors while he marshals the troops."

* * *

After a few more turns, both men found themselves at Indira's quarters. She welcomed them warmly, and invited them into her chambers.

"Albus, welcome. I need to more tea, as I've been instructed to expect more guests," Indira advised from her comfortable chair. "There's someone who wishes to speak to you, so second room on the left. Bharadhwaj, would you mind preparing more tea?"

"Once a student, always a student," muttered Bharadhwaj as he hustled to obey Indira's request.

"It's the way of the world," Albus retorted. He entered the room to discover Ibrahim Massod. The ghost nodded his head once in acknowledgment.

"I'm not a seer," the ghost stated quietly. "I do not have any particular gift for foretelling. While Trilochan declines to offer you a professional consult for fear of Paradox, I believe that I can offer you suggestions for I have seen this particular Prophecy unfolding for many decades. If you chose to heed my advice, you might be able to prevent the death of Severus Snape."

"Please enlighten me," Albus requested.

"Hogwarts will fall into Darkness. It will be crucial for the boy to kill you in order to strengthen his position among the Rakshasa's followers," Ibrahim stated. "Only then will the Rakshasa trust him sufficiently to give him complete control over Hogwarts. You must begin to train him as your successor. It may not be this year, but it will be soon, and he must be prepared."

Albus' knees weakened and he sat down heavily.

"To save your school, to save the world, you must be willing to die at Severus' hands, Albus-ji," Ibrahim explained. "Know this, you will instruct the boy to kill you and he will refuse. You _**must**_ convince him of the necessity of doing so. Severus will again refuse for a variety of reasons. He will ask you about state of his soul, his atman as he believes that your murder at his wand will darken his soul beyond any hope of redemption."

"Merlin have mercy," Albus whispered. "How can I request that of him?"

"After your death, he will be scorned and denigrated by those he believed trusted him. They will attempt to lead the school in a rebellion against him, and if they succeed in their uprising, then **_all _**will die. If Severus can last out the school year as Head Master, he will die due to a rather toxic snakebite. This is the only death that can be prevented. There is no way to prevent the others from taking place if they have been set in motion."

"Snake bite? Nagini?" Albus questioned. "Nagini will be at Hogwarts?"

"I suggest the following. You'll need to start feeding him antivenin. Start it now, and perhaps he might develop sufficient immunity so the snake venom won't kill him immediately. Secondly, ground bezoars and start putting it in his tea. Don't do the antivenin and powdered bezoars in the same drink as they'll bind together, negating their protective influence. Most importantly, give him something for which to live," Ibrahim ordered.

"Something for which to live for?" Albus repeated.

"Do you have pride in him and his many accomplishments? Have you told him? Do your other instructors share your faith in him? At the end, when he walks alone, despised and denigrated, it will be easy for him to lose faith and to turn away from your plan." Ibrahim's voice was quite intense and then he growled, "For the love of everything holy, Albus-ji, you MUST work on your Evacuation Plan. It hasn't been updated in over a century and when's the last time you actually had a drill? If the students need to flee, it will be absolute _chaos. _"


	32. Chapter 32

A/N # 1 Filius, Minerva and Severus just didn't want to play so blame them for the delay in this chapter. They were too busy misbehaving. Ok, Real Life has intervened, along with writer's block. So may this short chapter suffice?

A/N # 2 Albus, being an utter ham… err… ever ready to pick up the slack caused by the Unholy Trinity, decided to take a day trip to India where he met with a few ghosts who warned him that everything is about to hit the fan. Oh, and he needs to be nicer to Severus.

* * *

"Thank you for the tea and the conversation. It is always a true delight to talk to a fellow scholar," Albus Dumbledore said to Indira. For good measure, he leered at the diminutive witch before he gave her a saucy wink. They were long time friends, so they were each aware of the other's particular sexual peccadilloes.

"You must drive Filius insane," retorted the small Hindu witch. "You're a bigger flirt than he is."

"He ensures that I behave," Albus dryly confessed. "Now, I must return back to Hogwarts. I fear to discover what damage Dolores Umbridge has caused in my absence."

"Besides the ink bottles?" snickered Indira. "Where did you _**find**_ that woman? They're _**still**_ talking about how badly she behaved at the party! If you're that hard up for a Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor, you should have contacted us. We have a great many students who need job placement assistance. We could have sent you half a dozen candidates."

"It's an ill-omened position," Albus tiredly admitted. "It gets more and more difficult to fill the position each year. Since Merrythought retired…"

"Lovely woman," Indira approvingly stated. "Excellent wand work and light on her feet!"

"Yes, I agree that she was a marvel. But since she retired, it's been hard to keep a Defence teacher. They usually only last a year. Have you ever thought of taking a year long sabbatical? We'd pay you quite well," teased Albus. "Filius would love to have you as a fellow instructor once more."

He knew what her answer would be before she refused.

"I have to stay at my school, watching over my students," Indira said. "The Others keep watch and they'd be quite vexed if I took a jolly holiday at Hogwarts. They'd probably even figure out a way to Haunt me over there."

The two long time friends tightly embraced and Albus was overwhelmed with a strong premonition. He and Indira would not meet again, at least not on this side of the Veil. There was so little time left to him and so much to accomplish.

"Fare you well and I hope your conversation with Ibrahim was productive. He insisted on Amanbir Kaur being invited to our tea so I'm sure he has his motives. Naturally, he confided in me not at all. Probably afraid that I would run to Trilochan," Indira sniffed.

Carefully, Albus touched the two vials that Amanbir Kaur had given him. A specific antivenin and a special bezoar derived from the Markor goat that grazed in the Himalayas had been given to him along with detailed instructions. Now that he had them, all he needed to do was convince Severus of the need to dose himself with them.

_**Maybe I should just Imperio him into taking them. I fear he'll loudly protest until I stuff them down his throat.**_

Indira brushed at his sleeve, and shook her head. "I thought you had a spot on it, must just be my old eyes."

"Fare you well, Indira. May you have peace," he offered the traditional farewell.

"The peace I crave I doubt I'll get. I have no idea what's going to happen once I pass the Veil. Do I get reincarnated for another go-a-round? Do I join my friends here? Or are they waiting for me so we can go to our respective heavens together? They're not sure what will happen after I go, but Utta firmly believes that I'm the lodestone holding them here. Trilochan thinks that there are other reasons, which will be revealed to the rest of us in the fullness of time. So in other words, he knows, but he's not telling!"

Indira snorted her annoyance at the Jain Seer's quirks.

"To the well organized wizard, death is but the next great adventure," he tentatively offered her that small bit of comfort.

Like he expected, her fiery nature reasserted itself over her maudlin mood.

"I'm weary of adventure, Albus. I've had my fill of it and I want to _**rest**_. Aren't you tired of having to marshal the troops against the looming darkness?" questioned Indira.

Having no easy answer to that, Albus took his final leave of India

* * *

"I'm back," Albus greeted Fawkes, who blew a ring of smoke to acknowledge his Mage's return. "I'm sorry I took longer than I expected, but I needed to stop by Severus' quarters to fix his Dreamcatcher Wards. He's been having breakthrough nightmares and I needed to examine his wards. They were in shambles, so I just completely redid them. Fawkes, I need a status report. School's still standing? Dolores hasn't decided to change the school song because she truly believes that the third verse is too suggestive for impressionable minds? The Weasley Twins haven't blown up the Great Hall again have they? They've been awfully quiet lately; I must keep a closer eye on them."

Fawkes answered him not, which meant that all was well.

"Filius and Severus?" He hopefully questioned. "I noticed Severus was not in his quarters, so dare I hope…."

The Phoenix's response was a loud, happy trill.

"Excellent," Albus' relief was obvious. "It's been a long day, so I'll take a bath and then return to my lonely bed. I should invite Tanaka over for the weekend. I know you wouldn't mind seeing his familiar again. I believe that she secretly fancies you as she thinks you're quite pretty."

If a Phoenix could blush, well, then Fawkes was guilty of the crime. His familiar's delighted yet self-conscious response made Albus genuinely laugh for the first time in far too long, and he then shed his heavy robes, throwing them over the chair. He was clad in a long shirt with matching trousers.

"I'll hang it up tomorrow," Albus promised as he kicked off his high heeled, buckled boots, uncaring of where they landed. Deliberately, he had aimed one at Phineas Black's portrait but his trajectory had been off to his intense disappointment. "Minerva might be right about my need for sensible footwear, but I'm complimented on my shapely calves whenever I wear my boots. I may be ancient; Fawkes, but I like receiving compliments on my legs. You understand, it's like someone admiring your bright plumage."

Albus left the room to take a bath, and Fawkes continued to munch on his Phoenix treats. He had just finished the very last of them when a small ball of ectoplasm appeared on the sleeve of Albus' robe. It grew larger before it separated from the sleeve, and then rolled to the floor. The Phoenix went into high alert, about to alert his Mage of the situation as none of the paintings seemed aware of their visitor, when the ectoplasm formed into a faint outline. The vaguely human shape put one finger to his lips, requesting the Phoenix's discretion and cooperation. Fawkes tilted his head while he mentally debated the pressing issue.

At last Fawkes determined that the ghost meant no harm to his Mage or to the school and therefore he decided to keep silent. Albus had in fact, left him alone for an exceedingly long time, and hadn't given him very many treats for solace during the interim, so why should he inform Albus of this unexpected, quite possibly Phoenix-friendly visitor? Perhaps this new ghost would keep the Phoenix entertained while Albus did whatever Albus did. The ghost scratched him in a spot that Fawkes could never reach and then rubbed his beak in gentle acknowledgement before the spirit faded.

Fawkes mournfully rattled his dish, hoping Albus would give him more of his salty treats, but Albus was too busy braiding his long hair for bed. The Phoenix launched himself from his perch and landed on the special pillow that was reserved just for him and him alone, on Albus' big bed.

"I have so much to do tomorrow, Fawkes. I need to keep an eye on the Weasley Twins. The evacuation plan needs to be seriously updated and it's time for me to have a serious chat with Severus regarding the future. I'll need you there to keep our emotions under control."

Fawkes chirped his agreement, and to his delight, the House Elves had found Albus' secret stash of Phoenix treats and they had left him some on his pillow. He must remember to sing his sincerest appreciation for them tomorrow.

It was nice that _**someone**_ remembered a long suffering Fawkes deserved treats.

* * *

Severus Snape and Filius Flitwick were once again, fast friends, and when Poppy and Pomona had descended on Filius' quarters to see how the Charms Master was recovering from his emotional ordeal and all day drinking binge, Severus decided it was an acceptable time for him to make his escape. Fortunately, he was able to pretend that he wasn't quite as drunk as he truly was; the devious Filius had decided the best way to celebrate their firm friendship was to get him absolutely snockered on the Green Goddess. Thanks to his reputation, whenever someone caught a glimpse of his billowing robes, the alarm was spread, leaving to a mass exodus of students from his immediate vicinity.

Anyone that was a laggard and remained in his environs, well, it was only their fault that he took an increasing amount of points away from their House. Bloody hell, he needed to get to his quarters before anyone realized how drunk he truly was. Damn shame that Umbridge was watching the Floos, else he'd have returned that way.

"Really, was it truly necessary to take ten points from Luna Lovegood?" Minerva questioned.

When the bloody hell had she shown up?

"Yes," Severus stated, wondering when Minerva had arrived. "She was reading _**The Quibbler."**_

"There's no accounting for taste, but _**ten**_ points?" Minerva asked. "Isn't that excessive?"

The witch was matching him stride for stride and he wondered where she was going.

"She was reading it upside down, and you do know that your picture is on the front page?" Severus asked.

"So?" questioned the uncaring Head of Gryffindor. "From Albus' party, I'm assuming. There were a great many pictures taken."

"It was a color photo of you and Masood tangoing. Since she was reading it upside down, your skirt was…. Displaced…. . While Masood was a proper gentleman and attempted to constrain your skirt, alas, he is only one handed which means he was unsuccessful as he too busy attempting to support you. The sight sadly proving to one and to all that your rumored affection of wearing only Gryffindor colored knickers is in fact….utter and complete…"

Minerva's green eyes widened in concern and Severus was quite proud of coming up with that rather reasonable excuse for defending Minerva's honor when he was so absolutely potted. Perhaps the witch would look favorably upon him as he had ensured Minerva's virtue remained intact.

"Severus!" Minerva hissed. She was quite embarrassed as she remembered full well that what she had adorned herself for that evening's particular carnal battle had been delectable, lacey and most assuredly Slytherin colored. "There are students _**present**_."

"Ten points!" Severus growled. "More points will be taken if they're still here when I'm done talking."

The little ankle biters scattered like the very Hounds of Hell were after them, leaving the two instructors alone.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear that you're following me," Severus informed her.

"I am," she admitted.

"Why?" His voice was low, intense and rather suggestive, and dare Severus hope? Yes, his voice was dripping in enough pheromones for Minerva to uninhibitedly shag him right then and there as her breath had noticeably quickened.

"You're quite drunk Severus. and I wanted to ensure that you safely made it back to your quarters," primly retorted Minerva. "Merlin forbid you fall off a staircase and break something, I really don't want to deal with Horace coming back out of retirement. He'd probably want a suitable gala to celebrate his unretirement and after Filius' shindig, I have taken an Unbreakable Vow to never ever plan another party."

"Will you tuck my snake in? He's _**cold**_," he softly pleaded. "He wants to hunker down someplace nice and warm…."

"You're not just drunk, you're absolutely snockered," Minerva was absolutely gobsmacked at his rather risqué comment. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Well, the witch hadn't flatly turned him down, so perhaps a brisk walk to the dungeons might be in order.

* * *

"Wait," he ordered. He placed his hand in front of Minerva to prevent her entering his quarters. "My Wards have been brought down and brought back up again. Let me find out who has been here."

"You've got Wards on your personal quarters?" Minerva intently questioned.

Merlin's scrote, didn't Minerva worry about a student breaking into her quarters?

"I have some potion materials that I would prefer to not to have nicked by the various thieves that impersonate students here. Wait outside," he ordered.

He was being chivalrous and polite, refusing to let Minerva take the risk of being hexed, but to his intense annoyance the damnable witch strode right into his quarters.

"You're too bloody potted to wave your wand," she told him gruffly.

Hissing his annoyance, he decided it would behoove him to just ignore her. After all, if she was cursed, it was her own fault.

"There are flowers on your bed," Minerva pointed out. "I think I'm jealous as you've got a secret admirer leaving you love tokens."

Yes, to his complete befuddlement there were flowers on his bed. Out of the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw something… malformed… human shaped… but so ghostly that it faded into the shadows. Quickly looking around his quarters, Severus saw nothing. Not even a wisp remained of the shadows.

It must have been his imagination and the dark shadows of his quarters. There hadn't been anyone in his quarters…

But the flowers?

"They're Valeriana officinalis, aren't they?" Minerva questioned.

Bloody hell, he must have pure absinthe running in his veins if Minerva recognized the flowers before he did. Hesitantly, he picked up the blooms, experimentally sniffed them and he realized that there was a note beneath them.

"Love note?" Minerva sardonically quipped.

"One of my many secret admirers. You should be concerned," Severus retorted. At Minerva's blatant look of stunned disbelief, he decided to play tit for tat. "I have many secret admirers, including several Gryffindors. I will have to speak to you about Hermoine Granger's bizarre insistence on leaving me explicit love notes. Her prose is quite… purple and sadly, wholly tiresome as she's apparently quite the imaginative virgin."

He picked up the note and opened it.

_**You should have immediately told me that your wards were in shreds. I am most displeased that you have been needlessly plagued with nightmares; I would have fixed your wards immediately! **_

_**Pleasant dreams! We'll chat tomorrow.**_

_**Albus. **_

"Albus is sending you love notes?" Minerva questioned. She had been reading the note over his shoulder.

How possessive of her, Severus thought.

"He's utterly enamored of my snake," he told Minerva.

That's all he remembered before he found himself flat on his back on his bed, Minerva staring down at him. She looked most displeased with him as her hands were resting on her hips.

"Albus Dumbledore will keep his hands off _**my**_ snake," she informed him in a voice that made his blood run hot, burning away the remains of absinthe in his system. "Hermoine Granger will also learn to keep her explicit notes to herself."


	33. Chapter 33

Synopsis: We left Min and Sev shagging, Filius drinking, Dolores plotting, the Weasley twins scheming and Albus debating what spangled robe to wear today. But there's a new ghost in Hogwarts and Fawkes has a new friend.

* * *

The Phoenix chirped a friendly greeting to his new friend, the faded ghost, who appeared in Albus' office only after the Headmaster had decided to attend breakfast in the Great Hall. It was though that particular ghost thought it best NOT to bring himself to the attention of the Headmaster. The spirit respectfully bowed and nodded his head in acknowledgement of Fawkes' warm welcome. Their greetings exchanged, Fawkes flew to where his snacks were kept in a drawer and he bestowed a hopeful look at the ghost.

_Open the drawer, please_? Fawkes warbled.

The ghost, thankfully, was fluent in Phoenixese and possessed an understanding heart.

Truly, it was most unkind of Albus to keep Fawkes' treats locked in a drawer. Did Albus barricade his own sweets behind a slat of wood and an iron lock? No! Then why was he so stingy with Fawkes' treats? How would Albus enjoy it if their roles were reversed, if a stingy Fawkes only sparingly measured out each treat?

Between the two determined souls, they were able to unbolt the drawer and Fawkes helped himself to the treats. Kindly, the Phoenix offered some to his new friend, who regretfully declined as he lacked the corporal form necessary to enjoy the delicacies. The phantom did kindly suggest to Fawkes that he enjoy several of the treats for him so Fawkes quickly agreed.

Fawkes having snacked, the obliging and cooperative ghost then requested a tour of Hogwarts, and naturally, the Phoenix went along with it, as he appreciated the specter's assistance in obtaining his munchies.

_Let's fly!_ Fawkes chirped and the two new friends took to the skies of Hogwarts.

* * *

Fawkes had found a new friend and Albus, as much as he loathed admitting it, was a tad jealous. The Phoenix had decided to blow off their customary elevenses and instead was now joyfully flying through the halls of Hogwarts, causing a loud palaver among the students who rarely saw the reticent Fawkes in flight. The Phoenix landed on the edge of the window and the ghost slid next to him so he could sit on the window sill. The ghost scratched Fawkes, and they seemed quite intense on their private conversation. Therefore, Albus quickly made his move to discover who exactly had commandeered his familiar.

He caught the two friends unaware, and Fawkes looked guilty as heck when he realized he was busted.

"_**You**_?" Albus rather rudely questioned. He must be forgiven his extreme lack of tact as truly he wasn't expecting that particular ghost to have taken residence in Hogwarts. "What are you doing _**here**_?"

The ghost quickly faded when Albus spoke to him, but it was too late. Albus knew exactly who the ghost was, and a contemplative Albus smiled at a tense Fawkes.

"Yes, you can fly with him," Albus gently assured Fawkes. "In fact, I'd like you to show him about the school. I believe that it's very important that he's familiar with the school's setup. If he requires a place to rest in order to boost his energy levels, he has my permission to utilize my quarters, though you can understand that Filius must _**not**_ see him."

The Phoenix quickly agreed, grateful that an understanding Albus was not making a big palaver regarding Fawkes' new best though rather deceased friend. Then Albus reached into his pocket and pulled out a a Dr. Phlox's Phoenix snack for the discriminating palate.

"Treat?" He enticingly bribed his familiar. Perhaps, he had been neglecting Fawkes and the best way to get back into the Phoenix's good graces was by offering him a treat.

Alas, Fawkes was quite full from all his treats he had illegally acquired so he rebuffed Albus's _piece _offering.

"Come along now," Albus requested his stuffed familiar. "I have a meeting with Severus and I wish you there. After that, I have a staff meeting and you won't be required to attend that one as Dolores will no doubt be there. I'll know you'll be disappointed, but perhaps your new friend would like to see you then."

The Phoenix issued a loud and rude commentary about how little he respected Dolores Umbridge and Albus attempted to appear disapproving. It failed.

* * *

"Tea?" Albus queried. The teapot was at the ready, and Albus waited for the acceptance that would not be forthcoming.

Severus Snape inelegantly refused; however Albus still poured a cup.

"Sugar?" was the next volley in their traditional tannic exchange. Severus again refused and Albus added a dollop of sweetener. Not too much, certainly not enough sugar for his rather refined taste, but neither was it too much for Severus. For good measure, Albus added a dash of cream.

"Why do you bother asking?" was the long-established, snide response from the younger mage, but this time, Severus Snape said not a word. Instead, he merely acknowledged his appreciation with a curt nod of his head.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Albus intently questioned. He had rebuilt and relayered all of Severus' Dream Catcher Wards yesterday. It was a tremendous output of Albus' magical energy, but the Potions Master deserved that and more, if it helped him sleep.

"The little bit I got last night was… rather… restorative," was all the younger man would admit. As an afterthought, he added, "Thank you taking care of the Dream Catchers."

_Minerva was in his bed last night,_ Fawkes the snitch delightedly informed Albus. _I smell her scent on him. She is taking a nap in her quarters now as they were quite lively last night. The boy was utterly pissed on the Green Fairy last night and Minerva took advantage of him. Not that he minded, last night. Today, he's hung over and a little sore as she rather thoroughly rode his broomstick._

_Fawkes, please. I'm attempting a serious conversation that requires a delicate touch, and your risqué comments will make me laugh._

_It's true, you know, Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder!_

Severus, unmindful of the private conversation between mage and his familiar, sipped at his tea, his lip curling as the faintest taste of the additive that Albus had snuck into it.

"What did you put into this?" Severus questioned. He didn't protest what Albus had done nor did Severus accuse Albus of violating his trust. If Dumbledore desired Severus Snape dead, he wouldn't slip something into his tea. No, that would be too clumsy, and Albus Dumbledore prided himself on his sophistication along with his complete lack of anything resembling fashion sense.

"Can you not guess?" Albus retorted. "You're a Potions Master; tell me what I just slipped you. Horace Slughorn could."

"I doubt Horace could tell you as Horace has a finely developed palate that, alas, has been glutted on crystallized pineapple," Severus snarked.

The Potions Master closed his eyes and took another small sip, letting the flavor of the tea rest on the tip of his tongue. Savoring the taste, he then swallowed.

"Bezoar? Not just any Bezoar, but… grounded Bezoar from the Markor goat whose usual domain is the Himalayas. The distinctive components of a Markor Bezoar are based partially on the diet of the goat besides the unique acidic compound of its stomachs."

He opened his eyes, and quirked his eyebrows as though mocking Albus.

_Really, Headmaster, couldn't you have made it difficult? A tyro could have guessed that.  
_

"Ten points Slytherin," was Albus' soft response.

In the Great Hall, ten emeralds were tallied to the Slytherin total, leaving the Snakes several House points ahead of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

"I'm not done yet. Markor Bezoars are used only in poisonings of a specific snake. There isn't enough in the tea to save me, but I don't remember being bitten recently so I believe that I will live to frighten your Golden Trio for yet another day," Severus dryly responded.

"I want you prepared, Severus. When Voldemort keeps Nagini close to him, I want you to be primed," explained Albus. "I can not force you to take these, but I would desire that you have them."

He placed the two vials on the table and Severus narrowed his eyes in order to closely examined them.

"Grounded Markor Bezoar, perhaps five years' worth and…antivenin? Is there something you wish to tell me?" questioned Severus. "They were not created by a local Potions Master. Perhaps one of Filius' fanatical friends as the seal is that of a Rajni Kaur… though I don't remember her being one of the billion attendees of Filius' party."

"Dark Times are upon us, Severus, and I feel that they will grow darker yet. I believe that I will not live to see the Final Battle, and I would hope that you would survive," Albus' voice slowed and then he bit his lip before he softly admitted. "I would pray that you would survive and prosper, Severus."

Severus said not a word, but instead took another long sip of tea. The two vials on the table disappeared.

"I am quite pleased with you," Albus said. His blue eyes were not twinkling and he wasn't smiling. No, this was not a time for jokes, but instead seriousness and earnestness.

"Really, you're rather maudlin this morning," an uncomfortable Severus dryly quipped. Vainly, he attempted to change the subject. "Did you have a near-death experience with Tanaka this weekend?"

"Severus, I know that I never say that enough, but I wanted you to know that I am quite proud of you and that I trust you. You have done well with your Snakes, Severus. Salazar would be quite proud of you. I know Phineas is."

That last tidbit caused Severus to put his teacup down hard upon the table though he spilled not a drop on the ivory tablecloth.

"You're _**dying**_," was his instinctive response to Albus' praise. "You haven't told Minerva yet else she'd be storming through the corridors, loudly bitching about acquiring your job. Well, I'm _**not**_ telling her! You'll have to be wizard enough to inform her that she's being promoted and that Dolores is now her personal responsibility."

"I'm not dying, Severus, but there will be a time in the near future where I will be gone, and I fear that Voldemort will be in charge. You will be Headmaster…" Albus slowed and then stopped.

"I am afraid that you haven't heard the Prophecy, your Golden Boy will save us all," Severus retorted. "As long as he doesn't have to brew a potion because without Granger holding his hand, he's bloody clueless…You'd think that the Magical Messiah could be bothered to do his schoolwork."

"You will be Headmaster," Albus repeated, trying not to show that he had noticed how deeply affected Severus was by this long overdue conversation. "Headmaster of Hogwarts; and you will be responsible for taking care of all the students in Hogwarts, not just your Slytherins, but all of them. The Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors. You will shelter them from harm, and you will protect your fellow instructors as much as you are able. I fear that you will not be able to protect all of them, as that is the way of the world, but you will struggle to shield as many of them as you can."

"I do _**not**_ want the position," spat Severus.

"You didn't want to be Potions Master either, but you have done quite well here, Severus. Far better than I dared hope in the beginning, as I must confess that you were rather abrasive when you started. Plus you did hospitalize a great many of your students those first few weeks," Albus admitted.

His blue eyes twinkled at the remembered carnage of Severus' first weeks of teaching and Severus, once more, protested.

"I do _**not**_ want the position," repeated Severus. He was like a balky child, hoping that if he repeated himself enough that his stern father would relent, and allow him to stay awake until Father Christmas arrived.

"Minerva and Filius will need your protection," was Albus' calm response. "You will need to protect themselves from themselves. They will understand, before the end, that you did everything with my tacit approval."

"Before the end? The end of what? The _**world**_?" Severus retorted.

The Potions Master had finished his tea and was compulsively, mindlessly chewing on a bicky before Albus responded.

"We will start meeting every Monday night after your Snakes have gone to bed. You have much to learn about Hogwarts," Albus explained. "There's a staff meeting this afternoon, and Minerva, Filius and you will be put on a committee to update the evacuation plans for Hogwarts. They haven't been looked at in over a century, and I don't think we take our drills very seriously. My fault, as Headmaster, as I should lead by example. As Headmaster, there are specific spells that you can cast to assist in the students' evacuation."

"Evacuation? _**Evacuation**_? You're serious, aren't you?" Severus questioned.

"Aid can be allowed in through various secret passages. There is a two way passageway of which I'm not supposed to know, it's from Hog's Head and it exits in the Room of Requirement. Assistance can be brought in via the Room of Requirement, Severus, in such a way that the Staff would be unaware."

"If Hogwarts was in need of Assistance, Staff would need to know that help was on the way…" Severus paused and then whispered. "Unless the Staff has been compromised."

"Voldemort will wish to put those loyal to him in control of the school and its treasure trove of impressionable minds. I foresee a change in instructors when I am gone. You will do whatever necessary to ensure…"

"Whatever _**necessary**_?" Severus protested.

"If you need to murder me, you will do it with my blessing," Albus calmly stated. "You will be instrumental in his defeat, Severus, but you will need to be close to the serpent's breast. He must have complete trust in you, Severus, and if my death will seal his trust in you, then so be it."

"Have you been drinking cooking sherry with Trelawney?"

As Albus feared and anticipated, an outraged Severus stormed out of his chambers, his black robes billowing behind him.

Fawkes chirped a question, and Albus shook his head. He wasn't up to having a conversation with his familiar about what had occurred. Not yet, as it was still too painful, but in time, when he could bear to look at himself in the mirror once again. But the fates decided that Albus Dumbledore needed to talk.

_That was necessary though quite painful for you both_, the newest Hogwarts ghost said. _The cornerstone has been placed._

"Why are you here?" Albus questioned. "Do they know that you're here? Have they not noticed that you are missing?"

_I'm also there though somewhat quiescent. Besides, every time a fire so much as sparks, they say it's me. It was a useful reputation to have when I had to keep an eye on my elemental students. I kept the fires sparking randomly until they were safely asleep. _

Ibrahim Masood, deceased Fire Mage of India, softly chuckled at that remembered bit of chicanery.

"I didn't know Ghosts can be everywhere and anywhere," an emotionally exhausted Albus admitted.

_I'm not your average haunting, Albus-ji. Most specters stay on the earthly plane because they're too afraid to move on. I am still here because my obligation has not been discharged. The stigma stains my soul, and I must cleanse myself of the shame._

"Karma, Ibrahim? I mean no offense, but I think that your friends' spiritual beliefs have been rubbing off on you," Dumbledore said.

_Not karma, so much as the result of it. My actions have born fruit and they must be resolved.  
_

"Vipāka? Now, you're sounding like a Buddhist," Dumbledore quipped.

_Unintentionally, we gravely injured Filius, and until we have paid our debt to him, we will not be allowed to move on. While my spiritual beliefs are not those of my fellow ghosts, my soul has acknowledged their Truth of this matter, that a soul debt has not been paid. Filius is quite fond of your weapon and I must confess to a certain camaraderie with the boy due to our sharing of his wand. _

_Perhaps by being here, I can assist in the lonely path he must walk. Perhaps when Hogwarts falls, it will be beneficial to have a specter that will be able to assist the reinforcements, though I think a certain Sikh warrior would have been better to send._

"I have to admit that I believe you might be correct," Albus easily agreed.

_Unfortunately, he's just so energetic that Trilochan would have noticed he wasn't at the school. But be assured, that when Hogwarts falls, we will send aid. Now, forgive me, Albus-ji, I find myself rather spent, and need to rest. If you need to unburden yourself, I will listen. I can not grant absolution, but I can offer a unique perspective, considering that I was a child of Prophecy. Ponder this; perhaps your Prophecy is in fact, two Prophecies. Albus-ji, unwittingly combined into one by its drunken harbinger. _

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… that could certainly be your weapon… Do you not agree?_

The spirit faded then, leaving a pensive Albus Dumbledore to remember a day long past, when a young man overheard a rather remarkable prophecy.

A boy who loved so rarely but yet so ferociously.

_He will have power the Dark Lord knows not…_

* * *

A/N # 1 – Thanks to EP for the idea of Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder quip.


	34. Chapter 34

Thanks to MyMadness/Linze for their assistance.

Synopsis: (As it's been a while since we left Severus.) Albus has informed him of his potential role in Albus' death and advised him that Severus will be Headmaster.

* * *

Severus Snape swallowed once, the astringent taste of antivenin puckering his lips. He ignored the strident sounds of his fellow instructors as they were debating the possible reasoning behind this unscheduled, impromptu staff meeting. While they were arguing that question, Severus thought that there were other issues that could be more productively discussed instead. For example, Albus called the bloody meeting, why couldn't the Headmaster be on time?

No, Albus running late was a given and considered acceptable behavior by most of the Hogwarts Instructors. He's just so busy, so occupied… just so Albus…. sThe only question for Albus Dumbledore's Happy Clappy Hogwarts Devotees was why then did Albus decide to call for a meeting?

_Oh please, he doesn't need a reason. He's Albus bloody Dumbledore - you look up 'barmy old codger' in the magical encyclopedia and you'll see a picture of him, smiling and madly waving at the adoring crowds_, Severus mentally snarked.

"There's a new ghost in the school," Irma Pince announced. The Hogwarts librarian had spoken during a rare quiet moment and her voice carried in the all too quiet Staff Room. The librarian flushed as she had broken the cardinal rule of librarians everywhere; _Voices should not be heard_.

"What can you tell us about our new ghost?" questioned Minerva. "Former student, former instructor?"

"Male ghost. Quite insubstantial so he must be a rather new specter, but he smells of … sandalwood…." Irma advised. "He wouldn't give me his name and in fact, he dissipated when I attempted to speak with him."

"Shy?" Aurora Sinistra questioned.

"Possibly. Diffident might be the better description. He's a bit younger than our usual Hogwarts ghosts, maybe late thirties, early forties when he _**didn't**_ pass on. Handsome… if you are the type to prefer your mages dark."

That juicy tidbit caused the Hens of Hogwarts to become even more talkative. He hadn't thought it physically possible. But the idea of a new handsome ghost with a possibly tragic, no doubt highly romantic background had apparently encouraged them to new volume. The cursed soul mattered not at all to him, Severus Snape was far too occupied with the matter of his own damned state and the pungent antivenin that was spoiling his gut. Ignoring his stomach, Severus focused on his most recent conversation with Albus. He attempted to examine it from every possibly angle and yet his unease grew.

Severus Snape was Albus Dumbledore's man, through and through.

He spied for Albus and in turn, he slipped Albus' approved information to the Dark Lord.

Severus had long accepted that his particular role might mean he'd be Albus' attack dog. He had even believed that might be a remote chance that he'd be required to kill for Albus. Yet the possibility of Severus being Albus' _**executioner **_had never entered his mind.

No, no, no, _**no**_. There were many ugly things which Severus Snape was capable, but to cold bloodedly murder the wizard who had offered him a slim chance at personal redemption?

_**IMPOSSIBLE**__, _his brain raged_._

He _**would**_ not do it!

Albus had tried to explain that if the war had been lost, it would be benefical if Albus was dead by Severus' hand. A pleased Dark Lord would ensure Severus would be Headmaster and by carefully straddling both worlds, light and dark, Severus could protect as many of the students as possible.

No!

Why did the bloody blinkered Albus refuse to see the simple truth? The war would be as good as lost the minute Albus fell!

No doubt the Golden Child and his lackwitted friends would insist that the Golden Child should be installed as next Order leader. There was the prophecy on which the Golden One's celebrity was based but Severus refused to believe in the ramblings of a drunken seer. Give her enough cooking sherry and she'd predict that Severus would instrumental in the defeat of the Dark Lord.

No, no, no! Potter was clueless, a sniveling child, convinced that his Lily-given protection would be enough to defeat the Dark Lord.

The only thing the Golden Child possessed had been a mother willing to die for him. No great wizardly skills bursting forth, no instinctive talents for magic residing within.

The war would be lost when Albus died. Why did only Severus see that?

"Minerva and Filius will need your protection," had been Albus' calm response to Severus' refusal to listen to his dire predictions. "You will need to protect them from themselves. Before the end, they will understand that you did everything with my tacit approval."

_They'll hate me… rightly so… if Albus' predictions of my role in his death come to pass. Why can I not have a few moments of happiness? _

"A ghost?" Filius intently questioned. Filius' question interrupted Severus' dark thoughts. "That poor soul. I'll see what I can do to assist him on his way."

Binns made a disparaging comment about ghosts not being smart enough to move on and the impropriety of hanging around long after their welcome on the physical plane was worn out. It was his standard complaint so no one so much as acknowledged it with a smile. It was a constant source of secret amusement to Severus that Filius Flitwick, while successful at assisting many a Castle Ghost into their next plane of existence, had been notoriously unsuccessful in exorcising Binns. A mage of Filius' impressive skills should have easily been able to graduate Binns from his position of History of Magic instructor and shuffle him off to another institute of higher learning. But no, Binns refused to admit that he was dead, and he simply refused to vacate the premises.

"No, he doesn't need or desire your assistance in leaving this particular plane," the newly arrived Albus assured Filius. "I've spoken with him at some length. Shibah al Abbas has a loved one in the school for whom he's quite worried. He'll move on in time and until then, he promised to behave. Overly protective sort; I requested that Fawkes befriend him."

"Shibah?" Rolanda questioned, savoring the name of their new, exotic ghost.

"Shibah," Albus repeated. For some reason his blue eyes were twinkling as though he was highly amused by his cleverness.

"Ghosts are normally tied to a physical location," protested Filius. "They don't willy nilly drop in for a cuppa, scope out the place and decide it's a place that they'd like to haunt. That's simply **_not _**how ghosts behave!"

"It's not customary behavior, but ghosts can be tied to a physical object; a family heirloom, a wand… perhaps even a person," Albus then chuckled.

The information behind his intense amusement had Albus close to cackling like a barmy old codger.

"I fail to understand why we are discussing a ghost," Dolores Umbridge announced. She was clothed in a darker shade of pink than the little girl shade she had worn at the Sorting Ceremony, Severus noticed. "I thought we should discuss what Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs have been permitted to be reformed so there are no chances of students having an illegal club."

"I'm sure you have that matter well under control," Albus mildly stated. "It's a small matter that you can satisfactorily handle without need for assistance or further comments."

She and everyone else in room heard Albus' chastisement, and like spectators at a Quidditch match, the instructors glanced at her, eagering waiting for her response to the slight. All noticed how her now flushed face clashed with her clothes. Yes, it seemed that her clothing was getting darker hued as she grew increasingly frustrated. In spite of her gallant efforts, Albus easily prevented her from gaining control and fixing the insane asylum known as Hogwarts.

Severus Snape crawled deeper in his dark thoughts, deliberately ignoring the resulting conversation. Too late he realized the mistake of not listening when Albus Dumbledore cheerily announced, "The committee will consist of Filius, Minerva and Severus. We'll meet in two weeks to discuss their recommendations. We're dismissed! Thank you for your time."

Albus disappeared in a blaze of purple, leaving a frustrated, pink cheeked Dolores sputtering and a confused Severus wondering what short straw he had been left holding.

* * *

"Tomorrow night, my quarters?" Filius questioned over Dolores' loud protestations. The Hogwarts High Inquisitor told everyone who would listen – which was no one- how it was a ridiculous waste of time to update the Hogwarts evacuation plans as the children were safe at the school.

Finally, the mild-mannered Filius lost his temper and snapped, "Disaster plans are not just for war, Dolores. If there's a fire, a miscast Charm spell, earthquake or part of the building's bulwarks are accidentally Transfigured into sand, we, as Instructors, must ensure that all of our charges are able to safely escape. I'm sure everyone will agree with me that an intruder would make many long for escape."

Oh dear God, Minerva just didn't step on Filius' foot, did she? Filius ignored Minerva's physical reprimand, instead his blue eyes matched Dolores' toad stare for stare. The pink beast blinked first and looked away. She stormed out of the room, repeating Cornelius Fudge's name in a soft, plaintive whimper.

"Do you think she's partaking of some sweet Fudge?" Rolanda quipped. Her caustic wit earned a round of appreciative laughter from most of the faculty except from Argus Flich. He grimaced in displeasure and growled before storming off.

"I believe that our Argus is jealous that Dolores has a taste for Fudge," Pomona Sprout solemnly announced. Her attempt at pretentiousness was completely ruined by her chuckling.

"That's just _**wrong**_ on so many different levels," Charity Burbage giggled.

The Hogwarts Hens left in mass while loudly debating the illicit use of Fudge in the romantic exploits of one Dolores Umbridge.

"That reminds me, Poppy needs to be roped into this fiasco," Filius informed Severus and Minerva. "She's tending a possible case of Dragon Pox, so she missed Albus's spur of the moment meeting."

"I hope that you will share with us just how Dolores Umbridge's love life reminds you of Poppy?" Minerva requested. "I'm sure it's incredibly fascinating, Filius."

The witch smirked, a trifle too obvious in her desire to cause Filius some discomfort.

"I had this incredible urge to sick up," Filius admitted. He dramatically shuddered and rubbed his tummy. "So naturally, I thought of our dear sweet Poppy."

He paused, attempting to change the subject matter from the horrific thought of the Pink Toad's randy sex life. "I wonder what caused Albus' truly unexpected burst of initiative. There's a damn good reason why they haven't updated the Hogwarts' Disaster Plan since I was a student."

"Peeves?" Severus quipped.

Sadly, his comment went uncommented upon.

"Old Magic," Filius explained. His tone took on an instructor's tone. "Hogwarts has been standing for many a year, allowing the Founder's magic to permeate the Castle. Old magic is stubborn magic, resistant to being forced, restrained and contained, especially suited for the mutable footprint and foundation of our school. We'll need Poppy's involvement also. As the four House Heads, we should be able to wheedle the Castle into promising to behave during a disaster."

Minerva turned from Filius until she was looking just at Severus. A wicked little smile on her face, she gave Severus a secret wink. It was a warm gesture between fellow conspirators and yet more. Severus marveled at how… odd… it felt. When he had been younger, he and Lily had often schemed together, much to Petunia's annoyance, but…for Minerva McGonagall…to be treating him as a fellow schemer? It was a heady experience.

"Filius, you do know that the Castle isn't sentient," Minvera questioned. Her voice was dripping with a faux concern for Filius' sanity.

"She didn't mean that," Filius gently assured the wall. Lovingly, the Charms Master patted the wall and made a soft crooning noise. He whispered, "You know how Gryffindors are… no appreciation for the level of Charm Mastery required to create you. You don't listen to her. She's just jealous of the strong bonds between Ravenclaw and the castle, my love."

The witch opened and closed her mouth, then realized that Filius was playing the daft prat. "I'll see you tomorrow," she promised. "I have to meet a student for some extra tutoring."

Severus was about to make his own excuses for flight when Filius gently patted his hand.

"Something's bothering you. Let's chat," Filius all too happily suggested. "Yes, I know you won't admit to whatever is disturbing you, but you don't need to be alone with your dark thoughts."

* * *

"Has your Quidditch team been allowed to reform?" Filius questioned as he poured the tea.

"Yes," Severus tersely answered. He didn't want to be here with Filius, yet he certainly didn't want to be alone in the dungeon. Severus would need to be conscious of not revealing too much to the old sly fox. Filius was dangerous, as he was too darn intelligent and far too observant.

"The Ravenclaw team is still waiting for approval. Drat the woman. It's a shame Umbridge doesn't put as much effort into instruction as she does in wrecking havoc and promoting insurrection. Scone?"

"No, thank you," the Potion Master politely answered. He had only taken the cuppa as Filius had forced it upon him.

"Splash of Minerva for your tea?" asked the rather sly Filius.

Severus politely declined the addition of Minerva to his cuppa and then he realized what Filius had asked.

"Not her then. Hmmm… that means it must be Albus," an all too insightful Filius decided. "What can you share with me?"

"You've had to do things, Filius. Difficult, horrible things that had to be done…" Severus began. He then stopped, uncertain on how to proceed. Filius kept silent, allowing Severus to say whatever he wished, whenever he wanted. "Have you ever been afraid of looking at yourself in your mirror?"

Severus didn't mean he had difficulties physically facing the mirror though after having most of the Indian Magic School take a gander at his nethers had certainly made him rather leery of his mirror. No, Severus was asking how a man could confront his flaws and still feel worthy to carry on.

"Yes!" That one word was Filius' truthful answer to Severus' hesitant questioning. "Even now, there are mornings…when I shudder over my past."

Severus admitted not a single word and Filius then delicately asked, "I take it that our Headmaster had a rather painful request?"

"Not so much a request. But a stray comment he made. Albus pretends to be barmy, but he's actually quite shrewd. No comment he makes is ever truly whimsical or merely off his purple cuff. Not even that, 'Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!' speech he trots every few years," confided Severus.

"Yes, and none of the students realize those four heartfelt sentiments are quotes from "Hogwarts, A History" referencing the Hogwarts Founders," admitted Filius. "No, all of future scholars foolishly believe that he's barking mad."

The two men sat in silence for a bit, and then Filius offered Severus some consolation.

"He completely trusts you, Severus. I'm sure he didn't desire to cause you any distress with his comment; instead Albus was expressing his total faith in you. You have a very important role in our war, Severus. No one can do what you can, what you must do…" Filius assured him. "You have broad shoulders and can carry so great a load."

"Albus knows that I will do as he wishes. But why would he have me do what would destroy me?" Severus whispered. "When I fall in his war, there will be no one that will shed a tear."

"I **_WILL_**!" Filius protested. The Charms Master nearly jumped off his chair in his excitement. "Minerva will! You are not alone in this, Severus!"

"I am nothing more than a tool for him…The Order will mourn my loss only for the fact that the Order has no one to replace me. They will feel the loss of their weapon, their spy. The leverage I provide for the Order. There are none foolish enough to take my place." explained Severus. "You… you are my only friend, Filius."

That painful truth was confessed in a hoarse whisper. His relationship with Minerva was too fragile to be defined as friendship. They were having sex rather frequently but that didn't mean that they were friends. Yet, there had been that wink earlier...

"And Minerva? Are you not friends?" Filius asked. "She deeply cares for you, Severus."

"I do not know how to define our relationship nor do I dare even guess how resilient our rapport is." Severus admitted that slowly.

Filius chuckled and then laughed harder at Severus' displeased expression.

"Women are _**supposed**_ to make your head spin, Severus. That's part of the fun of dating," explained Filius. "Because your head is all befuddled by their charms, you don't know up from down."

"I'll take your word for it," decided Severus.

He finished his cuppa and then he reached for Filius' hand. "I will do what Albus wishes to do, but if I should ever lose your regard…. your friendship… I would be most bereft."

"Never lad, it would never happen. No matter what you do, no matter what happens, no matter what Albus has you do, I pledge that we will be friends even beyond the grave. I so solemnly swear," Filius announced. "_Esto perpetua."_

There was a tightening on Severus' skin and he realized then what Filius had done. The Charms Master had Avowed his oath. An Avowal was old magic and unlike an Unbreakable Vow, it didn't require three wizards to perform the ritual. No, it only required one very sincere Wizard.

No matter what, Filius would be his friend until the very bitter end.

"And done," Filius softly announced. "I hope that gives your soul some consolation."

"I feel that one day you may regret your largesse," confessed Severus.

"Never. I will _**never**_ lament being your friend, Severus. I wish you would believe me."

The Charms Master's sincerity deeply affected Severus. To finally have a stanch friend such as Filius, and to know the potential pain he would inflict on him all in the name of defeating the Dark lord overwhelmed Severus. To his utter shame, Severus broke down into tears.

"There, there, Severus!" Filius whispered. He carefully patted the younger man on the back. "We'll get through it together. I promise."

* * *

So ends "The Unholy Trinity".

Thank you for reading and your comments. This was my first HP fic so I appreciate your comments.

I hope that you will join Selmak in 2009 when she continues this story in "The Dangerous Duo and the Dark Prince".


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